


Mother Earth (Provides for Me)

by shesgotthespirit



Series: Will the Circle Be Unbroken [1]
Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Parenting, But also, Canon-Typical Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Conversations, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Finn Mikaelson Needs a Hug, Fix-It of Sorts, Flirting, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Mikaelson Has A Heart, Klaus Mikaelson Needs a Hug, Kol Mikaelson Needs a Hug, Lesbian Character, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Nature Magic, Past Child Abuse, Protective Elijah Mikaelson, Protective Klaus Mikaelson, Protective Original Female Character(s), Protective Siblings, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, depends what you want me to fix, got rid of the no romance tag cause there is now romance, oc doesn't always do relationships but when she does it's with a woman, oc is a spirit of nature, oc is gonna fix this family one heartfelt convo at time even if it takes another thousand years, oc is president of the mikaelson siblings protection committee, ok so maybe a hint of romance, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 64,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shesgotthespirit/pseuds/shesgotthespirit
Summary: “You know, I never understood how all this codswallop about nature being ‘good’ or ‘fair’ got started. Nature isn’t good or bad. It just is. Nature is harsh, and wild, and beautiful, and unforgiving. It’s survival of the fittest, darling, and it doesn’t give a damn about ‘fair.’”ORSigrid is going to fix this family if it's the last thing she ever does.
Relationships: Elijah Mikaelson & Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson & Kol Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson & Original Female Character(s), Elijah Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson, Finn Mikaelson & Original Female Character(s), Klaus Mikaelson & Kol Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson & Original Female Character(s), Klaus Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson & Original Female Character(s), Kol Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson, Original Female Character(s) & Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Rebekah Mikaelson & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Will the Circle Be Unbroken [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684435
Comments: 85
Kudos: 189





	1. Chapter 1

Niklaus’ screams rang out through the night, piercing through the roar of the wind and creaking trees, spurred on by the Bennett witch’s chanting. From a distance, perched lightly at the top of a pine tree--one that didn’t seem quite thick enough to support her weight, yet did so admirably--a slight figure contemplated the scene below. Her tree swayed ominously, tipping her towards the altercation between witch and Original vampire (now hybrid, she supposed) and whispering into her delicate ear. “Yes, yes,” she muttered to the wind. “Just a moment.”

She hummed indecisively. While she hardly relished Niklaus’ pain, she couldn’t deny it was somewhat satisfying to see him knocked down a peg or two, and by a delightful little witch to boot! Of course, she would never allow any true harm to come to him--physical or otherwise--but if she took a little perverse pleasure in his suffering for a moment, no one could blame her except Niklaus himself (he was an expert at blaming people). Not after all he’d done. She curled her slim, bare toes harshly into the bark of the branch beneath her at the thought of it. Still, she should probably intervene sooner rather than later. He’d be awfully cross with her if he realized she had just sat there and watched him writhe in agony on what should have been his “night of triumph” (she was sure he would call it something like that, probably even out loud since he was always so dramatic), and despite his faults she never really was capable of holding a grudge against him. Plus, she would almost certainly feel guilty later for waiting even this long, and she hated feeling guilty.

As if summoned by her deliberation and punishing vs helping and forgiving Niklaus, Elijah appeared. He was always ready for a debate on that particular subject, though his stance changed nearly every time she spoke to him. He often seemed determined to have it both ways, oddly enough. This time around, he was clearly in a punishing mindset, as he loomed over Niklaus’ pained form with a forbidding look upon his face before brutally plunging his hand into his brother’s chest. Okay, enough was enough, she was stepping in now!

With a burst of wind, she propelled herself towards the two men, landing lightly despite the speed of her movement. She inserted herself in the middle of the altercation so quickly and closely that Elijah was pushed firmly out (ew) and away from Niklaus by about a foot--not much space, but definitely enough for a small person like her! She ended up sandwiched between them with her bare feet tangled with Niklaus’ legs on the ground (she nimbly avoided stepping on him--he’d probably had enough abuse for the night) and nearly chest to chest with Elijah, his bloodied arm pressed harmlessly against her stomach. He stared at her in shock. From the ground, Niklaus groaned out a chuckle. Hmm, the night air was nice and warm over here by the fire! “Hi!” she greeted cheerfully. “I think that’s enough of that, don’t you?” She turned halfway around so that she could see both of them, carefully keeping herself in the middle and her peripheral vision trained on the witch and her young vampire friend.

“Who the hell are you?” the young man asked. She opened her mouth to answer, but the witch wasn’t as communicative as her friend apparently, since her reaction to the figure’s appearance was to fling out a hand and attempt to separate her from Niklaus and Elijah--presumably so Elijah could get back to trying to kill his brother. 

Nothing happened.

While the witch gaped, the figure replied to the vampire’s question. “I’m Sigrid! It’s lovely to meet you, I’m sure.” Elijah shifted in a specific manner Sigrid knew was meant to draw her attention, but she ignored it with the ease of long practice. Instead, refusing to acknowledge the insistent press from the girl’s spell, Sigrid turned her attention back to the witch, who was beginning to look angry. “Bonnie Bennett, was it? I’m sorry, darling, but I’m afraid your magic won’t work on me.” Conveniently, Sigrid left out the part where that was only the case because she had fully anticipated Bonnie’s attack. If the witch had caught her off guard, the magic would have been much more effective. Still, no need for her to know that. Sigrid continued, “I’d truly love to speak more on the subject with you some time--and can I just say that was some amazing spellwork you were using earlier, I’m very impressed! In the meantime, though, I think it would be best if you and your companion went to go be with your family and friends while I handle this. I understand it’s been a very trying night.” There, that sounded diplomatic enough.

Apparently not, because Bonnie seemed to swell with anger. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but Klaus needs to die tonight, so get out of the way.”

"That’s strange, I thought I just introduced myself?” Sigrid was careful to inject just the right amount of innocence into her voice so that it sounded sincere, and also a little like she was questioning both Bonnie’s hearing and her intelligence. It was a shame the girl seemed so rude, Sigrid really had been impressed by her magic. She loved witches! Well, the interesting ones anyway. “And I’m afraid that’s not on this evening’s schedule, darling.” 

Bonnie looked to Elijah for assistance, but Sigrid could feel his gaze burning into the side of her head. “You know what he did, Sigrid,” he said severely.

Sigrid nearly rolled her eyes, but she knew that wouldn’t win her any points. Especially not with Elijah, he was such a stickler for manners! Instead, she glanced at him out the corner of her eye and smiled. His face softened, and she immediately pounced. “I know what you think he did, but it isn’t true. He didn’t bury them at sea, Elijah, and if you kill him we’ll never find them!” She widened her eyes strategically. “And plus, you know I hate it when you two fight. I don’t want to see you hurt each other.” Predictably, Elijah crumpled like a wet paper towel, and nodded his assent. Haha! Got him! Worked every time.

Furious, Bonnie released a wordless cry of rage and tried once more to banish her with magic. When Sigrid was once more unaffected, Bonnie snarled, turned and began attacking Niklaus again instead. Now that Sigrid was paying closer attention, she could tell that not all of this power was actually Bonnie’s. She seemed to be channeling about 100 dead witches, who had--hmmm they had died on this very spot! That was a very interesting bit of magic, though it would prove quite suicidal if Bonnie didn’t stop soon. “Klaus needs to die!” Bonnie shouted over the renewed wind and the groaning trees, Niklaus’s own yells adding to the din. “I’ll kill him myself if you won’t get out of the way!”

“You’ll die,” Elijah objected. Wow, he must actually like these people.

“I don’t care!” Bonnie yelled recklessly, continuing to hurl magic at Niklaus.

Her loyalty was certainly admirable, Sigrid had no qualms admitting that. As was her power. But still. . . she narrowed her eyes and allowed her own power to infuse the air around them. The wind stopped immediately, the trees and grass ceased their swaying and for a moment the earth itself seemed to stand still--immeasurably, unnaturally still. A heavy, oppressive feeling filled the clearing, weighing down upon Bonnie until she must have felt she was almost carrying the sky. Gasping, she released her magic. Niklaus stopped screaming, and the only noise in the circle was the sound of his heavy breathing. Ignoring the pressure in her own body from using her power in this unnatural way (she was much better at releasing the force of the elements, not suppressing it), Sigrid announced clearly, “I said that’s not on the schedule, Bonnie. Go home. Now.”

The witch glared up at Sigrid, then looked to Klaus and seemed to prepare herself to argue. Losing patience completely, Sigrid released her hold on the air and directed it at Bonnie, blasting her backward and knocking her unconscious from the sudden force and movement. The vampire rushed to catch his friend before she could hit the ground, and Sigrid raised a challenging eyebrow at him. He clenched his fists and audibly grit his teeth (Sigrid winced, that could not be healthy), but gathered Bonnie in his arms and--after one more angry look towards Sigrid and Niklaus--sprinted away faster than Sigrid’s eye could follow.

Finally alone with the two men she’d come to seek, Sigrid turned to face them fully and grinned widely, dimples matching with Niklaus’ as he smiled at her in turn (even though he still seemed to be in some amount of pain). Her dark brown eyes twinkled merrily as she met Elijah’s, which were identical in shape and color, though not exactly in emotion at the moment. “Oh lighten up, Elijah!” Sigrid cried joyfully as she leapt up to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. As she did so, the wind rustled beneath her, and her lower body stayed airborne far longer than it should have. “Our siblings are as fine as they ever are when Nik daggers us, and really I don’t understand how you believed even for a second that he would dump any of them into the ocean, let alone all of them! I know he’s bad at showing it, but you should know Nik loves us far too much to do something like that,” she finished somewhat scoldingly. Really, Elijah never should have believed it, even if Nik did tell him himself.

“Yes, thank you for your support, sister,” Niklaus moaned from the ground, somehow managing to still sound arrogant. That wouldn’t do.

“Plus, Nik is too scared of being lonely to ever get rid of us for good,” Sigrid tacked on for good measure, earning a glower and a growl from her hybrid brother. She grinned.

Elijah didn’t seem so amused. He glared at Niklaus. “Is it true? They’re safe?” he interrogated.

Nik sighed. “Of course they are, Elijah, what do you take me for, some kind of monster?” He bared his teeth, grinning somewhat maniacally and flashing his brand new golden hybrid eyes. Sigrid was appropriately impressed. However, this action seemed to remind his body that it had been in the middle of transforming when it was so rudely interrupted by Elijah and the Bennett witch. His arm immediately snapped in half as he began to shift once more. Niklaus howled, almost literally, as his voice began to take on a different, deeper and more guttural tone. 

Sigrid immediately dropped to the ground beside her brother and laid a calming hand upon his forehead as he thrashed and whimpered. She allowed soothing energy to flow from her into him, and he relaxed enough for her to safely lean in and whisper to him, “It’s alright, Nik. I know it hurts, I know. But you’re whole again! This is who you are and I know you don’t need me to tell you that you’re strong enough to do this, but you are. Just let it happen, and then you can be free. Free and wild, the way you were always supposed to be.” As she spoke she pushed her natural energy through Niklaus’ body, helping to ease the pain of his transformation and speed it along a little. “And, hey, you know what they say,” she added jokingly, winking at her brother when he cracked his eyes open to gaze blearily at her. “Your first time might hurt a little at first, but if you’re doing it right it’ll feel great by the end!”

With that, she sprang backwards into Elijah’s grip as he picked her up and zoomed them away from Niklaus whilst he finished his transformation. And as they watched safely from a distance while their brother fulfilled his birthright, bones snapping and rearranging horrifically as he shifted into an immense black wolf, Sigrid tucked into Elijah’s warmth and muttered to herself, “Or maybe they only really say that to girls. . . Oh well!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid and Elijah have a lot to discuss.

Sigrid hadn’t seen Elijah since the mid nineties, but he was much the same as he had always been. He had grown his hair out a little (which was a shame, because it looked much better short, and Sigrid wasn’t afraid to tell him so), but he still dressed immaculately and carried himself as if there were a rather wide and long stick shoved up his--

“And you’re certain that they’re alright?” Elijah asked for what must have been the fourth or fifth time in the two day period that he and Sigrid had been tracking Niklaus, cleaning up his mess as he traipsed about as a giant wolf, leaving dead people and animals in his wake.

Sigrid sighed fondly and turned to look down at Elijah from where she was perched 20 feet up in a tree, monitoring a distant Niklaus who was currently rolling around happily in . . . something. The sun was just cresting through the tops of the trees, scattering dappled rays of light across Elijah’s dark suit and hair, and lightening his worried umber eyes--so like her own and Kol’s (and Mother’s)--to a warm and pleasing hickory. “Of course I’m certain, Lijah, the six of us are connected through blood and magic” Sigrid assured patiently. “I’m not sure where they are precisely, Nik has them cloaked of course, but I feel them move to a new location once every few months or so. Right now I think they’re somewhere in the Midwest. I’ve nearly found them before, a couple of times, but Nik knows I can sense them, obviously, and every time I get close, he moves them somewhere new. The arse,” she pouted, and Elijah cracked a helpless smile--which, of course, had been precisely her intention. A thousand years of experience with her siblings (with the exception of Finn, with whom she still had more experience than any mortal brother-sister pair could ever hope to achieve) had taught her exactly how to make each of them smile. Also how to make them angry, or hurt, but she tried to use her power exclusively for good when it came to her family.

Up ahead, Niklaus perked up and rolled to his feet, locking onto the figure of a large stag in the distance. The deer froze for a moment, sensing the eyes of a predator, then darted off. Niklaus wasted no time in beginning his pursuit. Elijah sighed and followed on foot, blurring with the speed of his movement, while Sigrid followed from above. She flew lightly through the trees, landing only briefly in each one, and moving nimbly and delicately enough to pass by without so much as disturbing the leaves. By the time she caught up to her brothers, both of whom were much faster than her, Niklaus had already felled the stag, and was gleefully tearing at its magnificent throat while its dead brown eyes stared blankly towards the clear sky. Its great rack of antlers tore gouges in the earth as its head moved with the force of Niklaus’ feasting.

Sigrid swallowed dryly, a foreboding feeling overtaking her as she glanced warily between Elijah and the stag. That couldn’t be good. Oh how she hated symbolism.

“You know he’s going to be furious with me when he comes back to himself,” Elijah said casually. Clearly he was reading her mind again. “Will I be able to count on your support?”

With a spike of annoyance, Sigrid leapt gracefully through open air, the wind carrying her along, to land in an immense ash tree just behind Elijah. She hooked her long legs around a bough near his head and swung around in a gymnastic maneuver so that she hung upside down from the branch, face to face with her brother, and gave him a grumpy look. A moment later, gravity caught up to her and sent her long brown locks cascading downward around both their heads. 

This startled a laugh out of Elijah, who reached up and smoothed her hair away from her face, scratching her scalp lightly as he went, just the way he knew she liked. He was smiling again. Damn him! He made it so hard to stay irritated! If Sigrid knew how to make her siblings melt, they sure knew how to do the same to her. She huffed, and yanked herself upward into a sitting position, straddling the branch with her back to the trunk of the tree, legs kicking anxiously through the air. “Why do you have to say it like that?” she grumbled eventually. “Like supporting you means I can’t support him too?”

“Perhaps in this matter that is precisely the case,” Elijah said solemnly. “Niklaus and I have once again found ourselves at odds. Now I know you dislike taking sides amongst our family, Sigrid, but surely even you must admit that Niklaus is unquestionably the one in the wrong here?”

Sigrid bit her lip and leaned back against the ash. Hmm, this tree was utterly infested with some kind of invasive species of beetle. It would be dead within the year if she left it as it was. She pulled one leg up underneath her and rotated enough to put a palm flat against the trunk. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to connect to the tree, suffusing it with her power.

It was a fairly old white ash, it had stood here for more than 200 years feeling the seasons come and go, but it had never felt the touch of something like her before, and it showed. The tree fairly quivered with energy as she sent her power through its fibers, rooting out where the invading beetles had hidden themselves. Its leaves and branches shook and swayed in a nonexistent breeze as Sigrid focused on the beetles, painlessly and smoothly urging them out of the tree through the holes they had bored in its tissue. 

There must have been thousands of them. Most of them were still in semi-larval states, but the few adults were a beautiful iridescent green color. No sooner had they emerged but a flock of birds of all shapes and sizes swooped out of nowhere to snatch them up. Woodpeckers and larks and thrushes and nuthatches descended in droves from seemingly nowhere at all to snag a beakful of beetles, and for a moment the air was made of wings and beaks and birdsong, before--as suddenly as they appeared--they dispersed, and the air was clear once more. 

That part of the problem handled, and no beetles wasted, Sigrid turned back to the tree and began the process of repairing it. She called upon the earth to send nutrients and minerals to the tree, she pulled energy from the sun, and water from the ground and the air, and urged them all together to heal the tree as quickly as she could, repairing the damaged tissue until the great ash was practically glowing with health (as a matter of fact, to a select few eyes, it was glowing a little, and it would continue to do so until Sigrid’s power had completely left its system). Its bark was healthy and tough, its trunk and roots strong, and its leaves gleaming brightly in the sun. 

All said, the entire process took less than five minutes. Sigrid sighed, satisfied with a job well done, and turned around to lean her back against the trunk once more. As soon as she did so, Elijah caught her eye as he gave her an utterly unimpressed look, pursing his lips. The peace she had just achieved rushed out of her in one great wave, and Sigrid slumped unhappily. “Are you satisfied, sister?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’d like to turn your attention back to the problem at hand now?” 

“Forgive me for trying to fix what problems I can, Elijah!” Sigrid snapped, folding her arms over her stomach defensively. “This,” she gestured to the tree, “is more my wheelhouse than solving family disputes has ever been.”

“I disagree,” Elijah said patiently. He turned toward Sigrid fully and raised his arms. She recognized the signal from back when they were human (or when Elijah and the others had been human, anyway, since Sigrid never really had been), when she would climb too far into a tree for her even-then great skills to help her come down. Elijah would always find her, and lift his arms up to her, and promise to catch her if she would only just trust him to do so. She always had, and he had never failed her. That remained true to this day, and so despite her stress over the situation he was putting her in, Sigrid did not hesitate to jump out of the ash tree and into Elijah’s embrace. He caught her as easily as he ever had, and gently lowered her bare feet to the ground. Her toes touched down onto cool pine needles, leaves, and dirt, and it was instinct to scrunch her digits down into the soft earth, feeling her connection to it down to her bones. 

Elijah continued, reaching up to tuck a lock of her wild hair behind her ear, “My lovely little sister, you have so often been the common ground that unites the rest of us. There is bad blood between us all, but you have never failed to forgive, and to love as if nothing ever went wrong in the first place. I am so grateful to you for that. But the time has come to take a stand. Niklaus has betrayed our siblings, our family, and it is not fair to them to allow them to suffer any longer, no matter how he may have justified himself to you.”

That phrasing reignited the spark of anger in Sigrid’s chest, and she slapped Elijah’s hand away in a fit of pique. Oof, that definitely hurt her more than it did him. “First of all, don’t act innocent, Elijah. I seem to recall you having a hand in daggering your siblings now and again over the years, myself included! Rebekah has, as well! Kol is in a box right now because of the two of you collaborating with Niklaus to put him there! I suppose it’s only a fitting punishment when you deem it to be?” Elijah tried to interject, then, but Sigrid cut him off and continued, turning away as she did so. “Second of all, I’m not a child, Elijah. He hasn’t somehow manipulated me into thinking what he’s done is right. I know it isn’t, but I’m also the only one who’s ever bothered to try to understand why he acts like this, rather than just trying to curb his behavior. You can’t just treat the symptoms without understanding the cause!” Peripherally, Sigrid noticed that at some point Niklaus had given them the slip, leaving the bloodied deer carcass behind. No matter, they would find him again easily enough. She could sense him not two miles ahead, having the time of his life as he tore through the wilderness.

Elijah’s eyes bored into her, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stick up straight, sensing the gaze of an apex predator. But when he spoke, his voice was as steady and calm as ever. “Sigrid,” he began gently, “you yourself said just moments ago that you’ve been searching for our siblings. That you know they deserve to be free. Why do you rail against me when this is precisely the outcome I seek?”

Oh, so he was just gonna ignore what she said, then? That was so like him. Sigrid loved him, but Elijah could do “condescending and holier-than-thou” better than anyone. He had a way of making you feel small and foolish, just by disregarding what you said, or speaking to you in a certain tone, or making a single well-placed comment. But this was too important for Elijah to brush off. Sigrid took a deep breath. “You’re not listening to me, brother,” she said with forced calm, turning to face him once more. The wind rustled through the trees once more as she moved, lifting leaves and her hair and the edges of her billowy green shirt sleeves. “I have no problem at all with waking our siblings. I love them dearly, and if I knew where they were I would fly there at once to free them myself.” Sigrid stared into Elijah’s eyes as she spoke, imbuing each word with sincerity. “What I take issue with, is you trying to make this a moment in which our entire family turns against Niklaus as one.” She paused to gauge his reaction. Elijah seemed surprised at her words, but made no move to dispute them, which was confirmation enough for Sigrid. She continued, “When our siblings wake, they will be rightly furious with our brother. You are already angry with him as well, and over the course of this conversation you have sought to sway me to your way of thinking. I know you, Elijah. You would have us abandon him to go live happily together. You would have that be his punishment. And that, I cannot abide.”

Elijah considered her. “What would you have me do?” he queried. “Surely you cannot expect me or our siblings to simply forgive and forget, to live as one happy family after all he has done?”

Sigrid ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. “I know that, Elijah, I know! I agree that Nik can’t just get away with this, but how would up and abandoning him teach him a lesson? Do you truly imagine that turning our backs on him would somehow make things better? That he would allow that in the first place?” She paced about the forest floor anxiously as she spoke, gesticulating wildly. “It would only increase his mania, his paranoia! I mean honestly, Elijah, can’t you see that he’s--that he’s suffering?” she practically exploded, the trees around them creaking and groaning as the wind whipped up to greater speeds. How was she the only one who could see Niklaus’ pain?

She whirled toward Elijah, but the stricken look on his face took the wind from her sails. All the hot air left her at once, and she sat down, hard, right there on the ground. She pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them, hair falling around her like a shroud. Disregarding his pristine suit, Elijah sat next to her in the dirt without hesitation, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders and tucking her into his side. They sat in silence for a moment. Quietly, Sigrid spoke again, face still pressed to her legs. She knew Elijah could hear her just fine. “He’s not been the same since what happened in New Orleans. What happened with Father and--and Marcellus. . .” She sighed and sat up, only to immediately curl into Elijah’s side, wrapping her arms around him. “I don’t think he feels safe anymore. Maybe he never really did. But New Orleans was the closest thing we had to a home, it was the place he felt secure enough to settle down and start--start piecing our family back together again, and when it was torn away he just. . . Norns, you didn’t see him, Lijah. Not right after. He was--” She cut herself off. Nik had confided in her then, and she didn’t intend to betray his confidence, not even in his defense. “I just don’t think he feels safe now. Not from Father, or from us, or with us. He’s not secure in our love for him, or his love for us, or whether we can be trusted, and quite frankly why should he be? The way we’ve treated each other over the years? And that’s not just on him, Elijah, you know it’s not.” She squeezed his waist pointedly.

There was a long pause before Elijah sighed, his whole body moving with the force of it. Sigrid smiled a little. That was his “capitulating to a younger sibling” sigh. She would recognize it anywhere. “You are right,” he murmured to the top of her head, “Of course you are right. I love Niklaus as dearly as you do, sister, and we made a vow to one another all those years ago.”

“Always and forever,” Sigrid chimed in, almost automatically. 

Elijah smiled. “Indeed. Family is power. I should not have forgotten that in my anger.”

Happy again (Norns, not even a full 48 hours with her family and she was as mercurial as Niklaus; she’d forgotten how exhausting they could be), Sigrid swung up onto her knees, rotating her body to face Elijah as she went. His arm fell from around her shoulders, and she grabbed his hand to clasp between both of hers before he could pull it away. His fingers and palm dwarfed her own easily. “The others will be furious when we wake them up,” she began, “and they have every right to be. Once we’re all together again, we can discuss a better way to get back at Nik for what he’s done. But if we’re ever going to fix this, we have to help each other, not hurt each other. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.”

Elijah quirked an eyebrow at her, lips slowly curling upwards. “‘When we wake them up?’” he quoted.

Sigrid grinned imperiously, dimples on full display and a devilish gleam in her eyes. In that moment, she was sure she looked more like Nik than ever. “Well, since you’ve finally come around to my way of thinking,” she teased gently, “I don’t see why we can’t concoct a scheme together.” She leapt nimbly to her feet as Elijah chuckled. Smiling more sincerely, she stuck out a hand to help him up. Humoring her, he took it and allowed her to assist him. “Come on Elijah,” she cheered. “Let’s orchestrate a little family reunion!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update this time, because this is still mostly set-up. I don't think I'll have a really consistent update schedule; I'm trying to wait until I have a rough draft of the next chapter before posting a new one, but we'll see how long that lasts. 
> 
> Still don't own The Vampire Diaries, I'm afraid.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niklaus is much the same as ever. He's lucky Sigrid loves him.

Niklaus shifted back to human form not two hours after Sigrid and Elijah came together to concoct their plan. He lay sleeping in a small clearing, pillowed on a bed of soft green leaves and bathed in midmorning sunlight, naked as the day he was born. 

Sigrid snorted. His lily white arse was reflecting light like a solar panel. If the sun got much higher, he’d be able to power a city block! “Go get him some clothes, would you Elijah? Before I go blind,” she entreated. “I’ll stay with him.”

“Of course,” Elijah agreed with a quiet chuckle. He ran off, leaving nothing more than a breath of displaced air in his wake.

Delicately, Sigrid made her way towards her sleeping brother. Her bare feet made no noise as they pressed lightly against the sticks and leaves on the forest floor, nor did the rest of her body as she sat near his head. Being careful not to wake him, she reached out and gently carded her fingers through his curly hair, gingerly picking out bits of plant matter (and animal, ew) as she encountered it. 

When Niklaus slept, eyelashes brushing his cheeks and lazy puffs of air whistling out from between his lips, it was hard to see him as anything other than the protective, loving, and gentle brother he had been to her when he was human. He was still capable of being those things now, but after years of abuse and fear and paranoia, they often manifested themselves in rather warped ways. There had been an innocence to him when he was human, a sweetness that was long since lost to time, and to the actions of their horrid parents. Sigrid mourned that part of her brother, that part of all her siblings. Even Rebekah, with all her infinite trust in love, was not the same now as she had been back then. How could she be? But despite everything that had changed over the last thousand years, and that would no doubt change further over the next thousand years, Sigrid loved her siblings just as much today as she had in the days before Henrik died--before they knew about monsters and loss and lies and the pain of eternity.

Sigrid examined Niklaus’ sleeping face. He was speckled with dirt, adding new freckles, between which she traced constellations on a face she’d long since memorized. She loved him. But she loved all of them.

No doubt he would view what she and Elijah had planned as a betrayal, and while he would almost expect it from Elijah, he likely wouldn’t from her. She had undaggered their siblings against his wishes in the past, yes, but not since New Orleans. She’d scarcely done anything to upset him since then. Not since that night he placed all of his trust in her, whispering his fears and weeping in her arms. Her heart ached at the thought of the hurt she was going to cause him, but she refused to feel guilty. Her siblings deserved to be free, deserved to experience the modern world. Kol had been fascinated by the first automobiles, and Sigrid knew he would love sports cars! They were like toys for adults! Bekah would be appalled by today’s fashion, initially, but she would come around. After years of long, layered, dresses, she would find shorts and tee shirts as liberating as Sigrid had when they first came into fashion. And Finn . . . Norns, she hadn’t seen Finn in 900 years. He had been so sad, so self-loathing, and back then Sigrid hadn’t been in any position to help him accept himself. She’d still been coming to terms with her own transformation, still learning how to separate herself from the wind and the earth so that she could stay whole and present. 

Niklaus would understand eventually. And once Sigrid sat everyone down and forced them to talk about their feelings (she was sure absolutely zero of her siblings would be excited about this prospect, but she had her ways), perhaps he would even forgive. He was fully capable of it, despite popular misconceptions. But he had always struggled with it, a trait he shared with Kol, though neither of them would like to admit to having something in common. 

Maybe she should get her family a therapist? Probably a blonde. Nik took to them easiest, for some reason, and Kol liked to eat brunettes. Hmm. Food for thought!

High above her head, Sigrid heard the rhythmic tapping of a woodpecker, hard at work digging grubs out of tree trunks, or possibly even carving a nesting hole (they did breed in late spring, after all). Other birds sang softly in the distance. Leaves rustled gently as they were moved by animals or by the light breeze, which carried the scent of wildflowers and fresh vegetation. Sigrid sighed happily. She could sit here for hours, surrounded by the sounds and smells of nature, tasting the air and digging her fingers into the cool, damp earth. The only thing that would make it better would be her family, whole and hale around her. Well, she would just have to make that happen then, wouldn’t she?

As if roused by her thoughts, Niklaus began to stir. Sigrid continued to stroke his hair as he slowly woke, eyelashes fluttering open. Still half asleep, he twisted a little, peeling his face off the ground and pushing himself up to his elbows. This put him face-to-face with Sigrid, whose hand drifted from his head and down to his cheek, which she patted softly, rubbing his stubble. Her touch and scent were familiar. Even half-asleep Niklaus recognized her immediately, saving her from an instinctively-aggressive response. He blinked, and as awareness returned to his eyes, a maddening grin began to spread across his face. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Sigrid greeted smoothly, trying not to let him get too smug too quickly.

Unabashed at his nakedness (Sigrid and her siblings had all seen each other nude on many occasions over the years), Niklaus rolled to a sitting position, glancing at the woods around them as he went. His smile was infectious, and Sigrid felt herself responding automatically. “That was amazing,” Nik said joyfully. “How long has it been?”

“Nearly two days. You’ve been a wolf this whole time, day and night. How do you feel?” Sigrid watched carefully as he got to his feet, examining him for any signs of lingering soreness from the transformation. He seemed alright, unlike most werewolves after the night of the full moon. His vampire healing likely took care of any stress injuries from the shift before he even had a chance to notice them.

Sure enough, Nik stretched his arms over his head and smirked. “Fantastic, sister. And I can shift at will, that’s good to know. I remember every single kill.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes. Did he also remember trying to chase a squirrel up a tree and falling flat on his arse? “I bet. They were certainly graphic enough. Elijah and I have been cleaning up after you this whole time.” She paused. “Well, mostly Elijah. You know I get a bit squeamish sometimes.”

Niklaus chuckled. “Just like old times. And where is our darling elder brother this fine morning?”

“Getting you some clothes, so you don’t have to make the 20 mile trek back to Mystic Falls in the buff. Honestly Nik, no one wants to see that, not even the trees.” He gaped at her in mock affront, and she couldn’t help but laugh. Many people wouldn’t believe their eyes if they saw big, bad Klaus Mikaelson behaving this way, but the power of baby sisters knew no bounds. Sigrid was the youngest of the family now (she hadn’t always been), and in many ways the most vulnerable. Her siblings often showed her facets of their personalities they’d never allow strangers--or even the rest of their family--to see. It was a shame. If they were all this open with each other, they probably wouldn’t have half the problems they did. Well, Sigrid liked to practice what she preached, and she’d never been afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve, so. . . “I’m happy for you, Nik,” she said sincerely. “You’ve wanted this for so long, and you never should have had to want it at all.” No doubt sensing an oncoming emotional conversation, Niklaus began to tense up. Sigrid bit her lip, but pressed on. “What Mother did to you was wrong, it was violating, and quite frankly that curse was one of the most unnatural, disgusting pieces of magic I’ve ever sensed. I’ve said it before, but. . . Nik, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you when she--”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he interrupted immediately, crossing to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. If there was anything that could get Niklaus to participate in a conversation like this, it would be Sigrid blaming herself for something that wasn’t her fault. . . which she knew full well. Did she feel bad for manipulating him? Well, not if it worked. Nik ducked down to put his eyes level to hers, cupping the side of her neck with one hand and leveling a finger at her nose with the other. “Sigrid, you were unconscious, you were sick. We thought you were going to die. I hate Mother for what she did to me, it’s true, but the magical backlash from her casting the curse is also what woke you up, and I’ll never regret that.”

Sigrid swallowed around the lump in her throat. She’d mostly said that to bait Nik into conversation, but maybe she’d needed the reassurance more than she knew. Her siblings had certainly expressed similar relief in the past, Niklaus included, but there weren’t many things in her life that she regretted more than her inability to help her siblings in the chaotic days immediately following their transformation. But Mother’s immortality spell. . . well, it really hadn’t agreed with her. 

Sigrid reached up to grasp Nik’s hand. Her power resonated against the magic in his blood that made him a hybrid--not just a vampire, as he had been for 1000 years. It was a new feeling, slightly unfamiliar to her senses, but much more pleasant than the choked, stifled impression she had always gotten from her brother before. “I’m glad you’re whole now, Nik. I hope. . . well, I hope more things can start changing for the better now too.”

Before he could respond, a balled up shirt nailed him in the side of the head. Startled, Sigrid turned to see Elijah leaning against a tree a few yards away. Wow, she must have been really distracted not to notice his approach, Nik even more so. That was bound to irritate him. And they’d been doing so well, too! She gave Elijah a dirty look, and he raised his eyebrows, tossing Niklaus a pair of jeans to match the shirt as he did so. “I quite concur, sister. Now, Niklaus,” he began, placing his hands in his pockets and smoothly turning to their brother. “Where exactly are our siblings?”

* * *

Sigrid hitched a ride back into town on Niklaus’ back. Normally, he wouldn’t indulge her request for a piggy-back ride if there was a chance an enemy might see (and his “enemies” here apparently spent a lot of time loitering in the woods around Mystic Falls), but he was in an incredibly good mood, and she wasn’t one to miss an opportunity like this. She clung to his back like a baby monkey as he sprinted through the forest at incredible speeds, Elijah just behind. Nik moved faster than Sigrid had ever seen him move, traveling the considerable distance back to town in mere moments, the trees blurring into unidentifiable brown and green blotches as they passed. It was a good thing she had cajoled Nik into carrying her, because she never would have been able to keep up. She could move very quickly with the help of the wind, especially through the treetops, but never in her long life had she moved this fast. Sigrid tucked her head into her brother’s shoulder, feeling strangely nauseous.

Nik forcefully evicted her from his back at the treeline near an old cemetery, and began leading them into Mystic Falls. Sigrid hadn’t yet had a chance to explore the bustling little town that had once been her home village (as soon as she’d arrived she’d had to go stop her brothers from killing one another--typical), so she glanced around in interest. Unfortunately they didn’t get to head into the center of town, since Nik didn’t want to attract too much attention. Instead, they wound their way through the outskirts of Mystic Falls until they eventually made their way to a somewhat pathetic looking apartment building.

Upon entering, Sigrid couldn’t help but scrunch her nose up in disgust. She wasn’t as much of a snob as the rest of her siblings, but she had standards. At any given moment she’d much rather be outside than inside, so if she had to be in, she’d like it to be clean and spacious, with high ceilings and big windows and wide bannisters for sliding down. And she’d like it to smell nice. Maybe some indoor plants? Those could contribute to the nice smell, so that was two birds with one stone! Anyway, was that really too much to ask? Nik typically shared these expectations for his housing arrangements (minus the bit about the bannisters), so Sigrid couldn’t see why he would have been staying in this dank old place.

She cringed away from the damp looking railing as the three of them walked single-file up the narrow staircase. “What are we doing here, Nik?” she whined. 

“Don’t fret, sister,” Niklaus chuckled, “we shan’t stay long. I just have a couple of things to take care of, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Niklaus was staying here while he occupied the body of one of this building’s tenants,” Elijah informed from behind her. Ha! What a little snitch, hoping to get Nik in trouble with her. That proper tone of voice wasn’t fooling anyone.

She did hate it when Niklaus possessed people, but not for any moral reason as Elijah probably assumed. It was just incredibly uncomfortable to feel her brother’s familiar, comforting (well, comforting to her, but probably not anyone else) energy radiating from a complete stranger. “Glad I wasn’t here to see it, then” she grimaced.

“Oh, lighten up, brother, sister! It was just a harmless bit of information gathering. All in good fun!” Niklaus cheered as he led them down a hallway to the apartment he’d apparently commandeered.

“More like psychological warfare,” Sigrid muttered to herself as her brother opened the apartment door. She blinked in shock at who they found on the other side. “Katerina!” she exclaimed. “And. . . guy from the other night!”

Indeed, the doppelganger had the young vampire from the clearing pinned against the wall near the kitchen. “Sigrid?” she blurted out, clearly surprised, before gathering herself and turning to Nik. “Klaus, you’re back. Look who decided to come for a visit.”

“You just keep popping up, don’t you?” Nik said, looking toward the youngest being in the room and smiling slightly.

Well, if he was important somehow, then, uh. . . “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced?” Sigrid asked, tilting her head and locking eyes with the unknown vampire. His were a lovely green color. “I mean, you know I’m Sigrid, obviously. I told you that the other night, plus Katerina said so just now, but uh--”

Elijah cut her off, no doubt aghast at her horrible manners. He had despaired over her etiquette for many years, and she had no plans to put him out of his misery any time soon. “Sigrid, this is Stefan Salvatore. He and his brother Damon are two of the vampires living in this town full time. Stefan, this is my youngest sister Sigrid. You were briefly acquainted the other night, I believe?”

As if Elijah didn’t remember perfectly. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Stefan. Officially, I mean,” Sigrid began, injecting a precise amount of cheer into her voice, just to up the shock value for when she followed that up with, “I’d say sorry about what happened, but I’m really not.”

Elijah groaned quietly. She could practically feel his blood pressure rising.

“Sister,” Stefan said faintly. He glanced between Sigrid, Elijah, and Niklaus. “Seriously?” Sigrid smiled widely, showing off her dimples. Stefan grimaced.

Nik came forward and wrapped his arm around her shoulders fondly. “Indeed,” he grinned, bringing his matching dimples forward. He then stepped in front of her slightly, putting himself between Sigrid and Stefan. Well, that was touching, but also a little insulting. Did he really think she’d let a measly 150 year old vampire get the better of her? “And what is it that you want now?”

Stefan stepped forward, away from Katerina. “I need your help. For my brother.”

Nik’s grin twisted into a smirk, and he walked forward, deeper into the apartment and past Stefan. “Well, whatever it is, it's gonna have to wait a tick,” he said. “You see, I have an obligation to my brother that requires my immediate attention.”

Oh, he wasn’t subtle. It was just as Elijah had said. Despite herself, Sigrid felt a flare of disappointment. Part of her had still held out hope that they wouldn’t need to implement their plan at all. Clearly that wasn’t going to be the case. Sigrid’s pulse began to pound, and she was grateful that her heart beat too quietly for a vampire to hear unless they were specifically listening for it. With any luck, Nik didn’t yet suspect her and wouldn’t be keeping an ear too far open.

Elijah stepped forward, keeping his eyes trained on Stefan. “You understand how important family is, or you wouldn't be here. My brother gave me his word that he would reunite me with my own.”

Sigrid felt the air in the apartment move as Nik appeared behind Elijah, and purposefully didn’t react. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she willed the tears that wanted to rise to stay back for a moment. She’d let them out soon. 

Niklaus spoke suddenly, “And so I shall.”

Elijah whirled around--he was really selling it--only to be met with a dagger to his chest. He shouted in pain and immediately began to drop to the floor. The betrayal on his face looked real.

Sigrid released a genuine cry of distress, and despite herself moved instinctually to help him as he began to dessicate. She could no longer hold back the tears, but they were acceptable now. Her vision blurred as Nik’s arms wrapped around her waist like steel bars, hauling her back into his chest. She thrashed against him, now truly weeping, as Elijah fell still.

“Shhh, Sigrid, shhh,” Niklaus murmured comfortingly into her ear. “You know I had to, sister, you know I did.”

“Didn’t,” she choked out, voice thick. Oh, Norns, this was real, it was far too real. “You didn’t have to, Nik!” She squirmed again, trying desperately to get to Elijah.

“Of course I did,” Niklaus said, still in that soothing tone of voice. “It’s alright, sister, it’s alright. Here, you may go to him,” he assured, lowering her to her knees but not releasing her just yet. “You can go see him,” Nik whispered, “but if you remove that dagger, you know there’s another one with your name on it.”  
Sigrid keened miserably. Oh, she knew, alright. When all was said and done, he’d likely put it in her heart on principle alone. “Let me go, let me go,” she croaked, still struggling  
weakly. 

“Alright, alright,” Nik agreed softly. He kissed her temple gently, then finally released her. 

She scrambled towards Elijah on her hands and knees and settled at his side, hands hovering uselessly over his chest. He was completely grey and still, eyes closed. She hated how death--no matter how temporary--transformed his face. Behind her, she heard sounds of a struggle starting up, but it was muffled, as if she were wearing a particularly thick pair of earmuffs. Maybe if she were, she wouldn’t feel quite so cold. Sigrid leaned over Elijah’s cooling corpse, pressing her forehead to his. Rarely in her life had she felt this awful. 

So far, all was going according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm churning these chapters out pretty quickly at the moment. Let's hope that keeps up!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how upset she is with him, Niklaus is still Sigrid's brother.
> 
> In other news, the Ripper of Monterey is a terrible traveling companion.

Sigrid sat quietly on a homemade swing hanging from an immense oak tree. She swayed back and forth slowly, one knee pulled up under her chin as she gazed blankly at the huge white house in the middle of rural Tennessee. It was a nice place. Lot’s of land, trees surrounding the property, a nice looking garden out front peppered with bird feeders. The house was quiet for now, but it wouldn’t be for long. Stefan was waiting out back. Nik had just gone in the front, having compelled his way in after failing to charm the homeowner the old fashioned way. It was probably the fault of that horrific attempt at an American accent. “‘I promise I’m not a serial killer,’” Sigrid mocked quietly. “Honestly.”

The bushes behind her rustled suddenly, and Sigrid twisted the swing around in alarm, only to relax when a large springer spaniel poked his head through the foliage, panting harshly in the heat. “Hey you,” she murmured, lips raising in a helpless smile as she stuck her hand out in greeting. “You must be Rudy. Your mother was calling you.” Rudy sniffed her hand agreeably, then immediately shoved his head under her hand for pets, angling it so she was scratching just under his ear. His pink tongue lolled out of his mouth in pleasure. 

The first of what was sure to be many screams abruptly rang out from the house, and Sigrid turned back to it guiltily. If she was being honest, while she took no joy in any of the deaths that had followed in the wake of their little road trip since she, Nik, and Stefan had left Mystic Falls (she especially took no joy in Stefan’s methods, they were disgusting and entirely unnecessary), that was only because she didn’t feel much of anything about their deaths, one way or the other. Call her selfish, but she had other things on her mind. Still, petting someone’s dog while they were being slaughtered yards away was a bit too callous for her tastes. 

Rudy’s soft brown ears perked at the noise, but he didn’t react otherwise. Sigrid sighed. Animals loved her, and were often drawn to her. If she weren’t here, Rudy would probably be rushing forward to try to save his people. Not that it would make a difference. Still, she felt bizarrely guilty for it, as if she were somehow betraying the dog, or even the people in the house, by keeping them apart.

No. That wasn’t what she really felt guilty about (though she did feel bad for the dog), and she knew it. “Damn you, Elijah,” Sigrid whispered. “Was this really a good idea?” she asked the open air, which answered only with the slightest breath of cool breeze.

Sigrid had been on the road with Nik for months, and she was still no closer to locating the rest of her siblings than she had been the day he’d daggered Elijah. They were still carrying her brother’s dessicated corpse--sealed carefully in his coffin--in a moving van that they carted along with them everywhere they went. Sigrid could only hope that eventually Niklaus would want to place Elijah with the others, and she could then follow the van to their location. That had been Elijah’s plan. It hadn’t seemed quite so shoddy when he’d laid it out for her that day in the woods, but as days passed and Nik remained utterly focused on making hybrids, Sigrid was forced to conclude that this was probably going to take much longer than she had anticipated. Or, worse still, that Niklaus might already suspect something was amiss. Sigrid would be the first to admit she was crap at lying to her siblings, that’s why she didn’t usually bother with it. Instead she endeavored to deploy the truth of her thoughts and feelings strategically. She’d thought it was going okay. . . Nik definitely knew that she was genuinely angry and disappointed about what he’d done to Elijah (she hadn’t exactly made an effort to hide it, nor would it be an unexpected response), but he also knew that she truly was happy for him in the wake of his transformation and wanted him to be able to create more hybrids like himself. Sigrid sighed. She was walking a very fine line. She patted Rudy’s head mournfully, and he laid his chin upon her thigh in comfort.

Up ahead, Niklaus finally reappeared, exiting the house just as shrieks and screams began piercing the night air in earnest. Rudy whined in distress. Rubbing his neck reassuringly, Sigrid stood from the swing and made her way towards her brother, who was waiting for her in the driveway. The dog followed, sticking close to her side and tucking his tail between his legs. 

The grass was cool between her toes, a nice contrast to the humid air. As Sigrid approached the house, the sounds coming from within became clearer, and she couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose in disgust. She was no stranger to blood and gore and torture, but those noises were seriously gross. Stefan was one hell of a messy eater. Worst self-control she’d ever seen in a vampire his age. Even after the screaming trailed off, the sounds of flesh ripping, bones breaking, and blood being guzzled continued.

“Who’s this then?” Nik asked as if nothing was wrong, crouching down to greet Rudy. The dog cowered away, retreating behind Sigrid’s legs. Most animals, particularly canines, had such reactions to her brother. It was a shame, because he truly did love animals. Some of the purest companionship Sigrid had had the pleasure of witnessing over the years had been between Nik and his beloved horses. She’d felt fit enough to gut Father herself when he’d killed one of them just to get to Niklaus.

Sigrid placed her hand on Rudy’s head, willing him to relax, and he immediately perked up and moved towards her brother enthusiastically. Niklaus chuckled as the dog sniffed all around him and briefly licked his face. Sigrid couldn’t help but crack a smile, even though she was a bit cross with him. “This is Rudy. We’re taking him to a shelter,” she asserted, crossing her arms. “You know, since you just killed his parents and all.”

Niklaus stood and began making his way towards the car, parked about a quarter mile down the road so as to preserve his “stranded traveler” ruse. Sigrid followed, Rudy running back and forth gleefully between the two of them. “Now, sister, don’t cast such awful aspersions on me,” he chided lightly, grinning. “I didn’t kill anyone in that house.”

Sigrid glanced back. Stefan still hadn’t emerged. Ew. She so didn’t want to know what he was still doing in there. “Might have been kinder if you had, honestly.” The screaming had stopped, so clearly they were dead? What exactly was taking him so long? Best not to think about it. “But of course, you’re nothing if not a saint, Nik.” She suppressed a smirk as Niklaus glanced sharply at her. He hated the Santa Klaus puns so much, it was practically her duty to administer them as frequently as she could. So maybe she was feeling a bit vindictive. Sue her! “Did you get any leads this time, at least?”

At her reminder, Niklaus was all smiles again, which was honestly answer enough. “As a matter of fact I did. Those lovely ladies seem to think we’ll be able to find Ray Sutton at a bar near the border. Speaking of, I think I’ll need to do a spot of werewolf torturing soon, and my wolfsbane supply just so happens to be running low. Mind procuring some more for me, sister?”

Sigrid shook her head in irritation. Of course he’d somehow run through it all already. She wasn’t even going to ask. “Fine,” she said curtly, stopping on the side of the road. She moved a few feet into the grass looking for a particularly moist spot. When she found one, she squatted down and sank her fingers and toes into the mud. She had no seeds, which would have made the process simpler, but Sigrid could easily grow any flower she was familiar with. She extended her power down into the earth, imagining her fingers as roots, and her own energy as the sun. As she slowly drew her hands out of the dirt, a small patch of green, healthy plants grew in their wake, blooming immediately with rich purple flowers. Sigrid picked them all carefully, then whirled back towards her brother, pressing them into his bare hand before he could protest. “Here,” she said, her innocent tone clashing with the smirk on her face as she watched Niklaus curse, palm steaming and blistering where it made contact with the poisonous plant.

He shoved the wolfsbane into his jacket pocket as quickly as he could, hands healing immediately. Ah well, it had been nice while it lasted. She turned and continued walking toward the car, wiping her dirty hands on her shorts as she went. Rudy trotted along behind her obediently. “I take it you’re still upset,” Nik said dryly.

“Whatever would give you that idea, Niklaus?” Sigrid drawled.

He reappeared next to her instantly, grabbing her arm and pulling her to a stop. He looked at her earnestly. “Look, love, I really am sorry that you had to see what happened with Elijah.” She snorted at the phrasing, but Niklaus continued, undaunted. “I know how much it hurts you to see any of us hurt,” Oh no, he was bringing out the puppy dog eyes! She was notoriously weak to those! Sigrid could feel herself starting to crumble already. “But I need you here, with me, by my side as I make my first hybrids. Truthfully, it’s very important to me. This is the advent of a new age, sister! I want you to see it in with me,” he finished sincerely, cupping her cheek.

Damn it, he knew that her siblings being emotionally vulnerable was her one true weakness! Now she felt bad for burning him. But still, something needed to be clarified here. She had to stay strong! “It’s not about the fact that I saw what you did to Elijah, and you know that,” Sigrid rebuked, managing to keep her tone from softening too much. “I truly just don’t understand, Nik. Does it ever even occur to you to try an approach that doesn’t involve violence? Yes, Elijah hurt you, but all that pain and betrayal you felt when he attacked you is the same way he felt when he believed you threw our siblings into the sea!” Sigrid pointed out. 

“You knew I didn’t abandon them at sea!” Niklaus interjected angrily, shaking his head. “He should have realized that as well!”

Sigrid crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Alright, first of all, I have certain extrasensory advantages that Elijah doesn’t,” she pointed out. “Of course I knew they weren’t at the bottom of the ocean. Second of all, you clearly wanted him to believe it, though the reason why escapes me, especially if you were just going to turn around and get so upset about it.” Nik looked ready to interrupt again, defensive sneer (different from his arrogant sneer and his disgusted sneer) in place, but Sigrid rushed to continue before he could do so. “Third of all,” she said firmly, locking eyes with him, “don’t change the subject. The point is that our family is trapped in an endless circle of violence, and the only way we’re going to get out of it, is if we stop intentionally hurting each other. Now, that’s not just on you, but since you and I are currently the only ones amongst our siblings who are even awake. . . maybe we should start working on it.”

Niklaus turned and began walking towards the car once more. Sigrid hurried to catch up, bare feet slapping quietly against the asphalt. “And what would you have me do?” he asked, agitated. “What would my saintly sister ask of me?”

Sigrid considered this, refusing to allow his venomous tone to deter her. He wasn’t shutting the conversation down. That was a good sign. “Start small,” she suggested. They rounded a slight bend in the road, and the car became visible up ahead. “When you find this werewolf, and his pack, maybe don’t go straight for torture, or even intimidation. Frightening people is a form of violence in and of itself.” She couldn’t see Nik’s face, but she could practically hear him rolling his eyes. She kicked a stone at the back of his head. Ooh, direct hit!

“Hey!” he objected, raising a hand instinctively to the sore spot.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Sigrid snapped. “I’m serious, Nik. You want these werewolves to work with you. Their cooperation will make this whole thing so much easier! But you know how werewolves are. Proud. Standoffish.” She nudged him pointedly. “If you walk in there, chest puffed up, alpha of all alpha males, their hackles will go up faster than you can say ‘hybrid,’ and you’ll never get anywhere with them. Just. . . try the diplomatic approach?” Sigrid implored. “You are capable of being charming. Or so I’ve been told. Never witnessed that myself, of course,” she finished with a gentle tease, hoping to warm him to the idea of communication methods that didn’t involve any throat or heart ripping.

She seemed to have done something correctly, because he smiled a bit indulgently as he opened the back door of the car for Rudy, before moving towards the driver’s side. Normally Sigrid would ride in the front, but she elected to get in the back with the dog this time. Stefan had a track record of eating animals, after all. “I’ll take it under consideration, love,” Niklaus said, grinning at her in the rearview mirror. 

Sigrid sighed, leaning back and allowing Rudy to climb into her lap. “I suppose that’s all I can ask.”

* * *

A week later, when Sigrid found herself trekking through the Smoky Mountains with a dead werewolf tossed over Stefan’s shoulder, it became abundantly clear that Niklaus had not, in fact, taken her words under consideration.

Wincing as she stepped on yet another sharp rock, Sigrid contemplated taking to the trees, but ultimately decided against it. She didn’t trust Stefan as far as she could throw him, despite Nik’s fondness for the other vampire, and honestly didn’t want him to know what she was and wasn’t capable of. Her siblings might have had the muscle to flaunt who and what they were, but Sigrid was far more fragile. She had an advantage against witches, but vampires were another story, and while the chances of one as young as Stefan getting the drop on her were slim, they weren’t nothing.

Niklaus, of course, noticed her cringing at the rock embedded in her bare foot. “I told you to put on a pair of shoes,” he said smugly.

Sigrid shot him a dirty look. She’d rather chew off her own foot than wear shoes in the forest, and he knew it. She hated shoes, and only wore them when not doing so would attract undue amounts of attention. Even then, she normally managed to get away with just a pair of flip-flops. She didn’t really need to wear shoes, anyway. Sigrid’s connection to nature made her impervious to changes in temperature, and normally she stepped so lightly (practically floating, really) that a rock, or any other sharp object, wouldn’t really register. But she’d been trying to tone down her “otherworldliness,” as many called it, so as to keep Stefan in the dark. Not that she thought he’d be able to guess what she was, but still. Better safe than sorry, especially in such close quarters with a Ripper. Nik thought she was being paranoid. Ha! As if she wanted to hear that from him!

“Did you even listen to a word I said about diplomacy, Niklaus?” Sigrid sniped.

“Of course I did,” he smirked. “I listened, and then I decided I like my way better. A time-honored tradition when dealing with bossy younger siblings.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes so hard it hurt, getting ready to retort, but then Stefan cut in. “You know, I get that I’m, uh, I’m stuck with the two of you, but if we could maybe just skip the sibling banter, it'd be great,” he said, a tight, sarcastic smile on his face.

“So much brooding. Your self-loathing is suffocating you, my friend,” Niklaus responded, smiling slightly. 

“Yeah,” Sigrid muttered, knowing full well they could both hear her. “And everyone around you.”

Stefan glared at her, and Nik smoothly inserted himself between the two of them. “Maybe,” the Ripper said irritably, “it's 'cause I'm a little tired of hunting werewolves. We've been at it all summer.”

“Well,” Niklaus said, clapping a hand on Stefan’s back somewhat harshly, sending him forward a few paces. “Thanks to our pal Ray, we found ourselves a pack. There.” He pointed up ahead, where Sigrid could see a couple dozen people--mostly triggered werewolves, by the feel of them--setting up camp in a clearing spotted with tall, thin, white pine trees.

As Stefan moved forward with Ray’s body, the werewolves began to notice him, gaping in shock at the sight of their friend’s corpse. He placed the body in the clearing and stepped back, just as a woman with short brown hair raced forward, followed by a blond man. “Ray! Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, falling to her knees beside the body. She looked up at Stefan. “What's going on? Who are you?” she asked accusingly.

Niklaus took this as his cue, stepping forward into the clearing. Sigrid followed, sticking close to his side. She wasn’t worried about him necessarily, but a pit was beginning to form in her stomach. Something wasn’t quite right. “The important question is who am I?” he said, looking at the man and woman next to Ray’s body. After a moment, he glanced up at the rest of the camp, adding with false politeness, “Please forgive the intrusion. My name is Klaus.”

The woman stood up slowly, shaking. Sigrid bit her lip as the werewolves looked to each other in fear. “You’re the hybrid,” the brunette said, as she and the blond man each took a small step back.

“You’ve heard of me,” Nik said, sounding pleased. His smile widened into something slightly malicious. “Fantastic.” 

Sigrid shivered, a foreboding feeling washing over her. It felt as if the universe had tilted slightly to one side and everything was in the wrong place. She’d only felt this way once before, when Mother had initially cursed Niklaus 1000 years ago, inadvertently waking Sigrid from the magical coma she’d fallen into after the immortality spell. But where was it coming from this time? She scanned the clearing. Ray, she realized. He was going to wake up in transition soon, Sigrid could tell. Norns, the longer she looked at his body, the worse she felt. She was almost nauseous. She reached over to grab Nik’s arm, subconsciously moving closer to him, almost curling into his side. 

Something was seriously wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong, and Sigrid suffers for it.

“ _I’m telling you, Nik_ ,” Sigrid insisted, speaking Old Norse. They were surrounded by creatures with supernaturally advanced hearing. It was too much to hope they wouldn’t listen in, but speaking a language no one understood was a tried and true method for thwarting eavesdroppers, if a bit rude. Hopefully no one here was an expert on ancient Scandanavian cultures. “ _I don’t think it’s going to work. Something’s going wrong with the transition process._ ”

Nik crossed his arms. “ _Or perhaps hybrids are simply more unnatural than you realized_ ,” he smirked, but Sigrid could tell that the thought actually upset him.

“ _There’s nothing unnatural about you, Niklaus_ ,” she decreed flatly. “ _But maybe you should hold back on trying to turn the rest of them._ ”

Her brother glanced back towards the clearing full of werewolves, many of whom froze as he looked at them. Did they think his vision was motion-activated? Like a dinosaur? “ _I completed the ritual, I did everything I had to do._ ” He turned to Sigrid. “ _If it works, I’ll have my army. If it doesn’t, I’ll know something’s wrong. Either way, I can’t let this opportunity pass._ ” He grinned wildly. “ _Let’s hope you’re just squeamish, sister._ ” With that, he walked away from her, back into the clearing where he settled imperiously atop a large boulder beside Stefan.

Sigrid sighed. “Let’s hope,” she repeated quietly, following and leaning up against a tree behind the vampires. Truthfully, she had no desire to see these wolves die. Despite what had happened to Henrik, Sigrid held no particular grudge against werewolves. True, she often found them irritating (they were typically incredibly standoffish, stubborn, and proud, traits she only tolerated when they manifested themselves in her family or in her favor), but these people hadn’t done anything against her or her family, so Sigrid saw no reason for their lives to be lost. Unfortunately, Niklaus had made up his mind, and she wasn’t about to risk her brother’s wrath on behalf of a bunch of strangers. Not when her siblings were counting on her to find them and wake them.

Oh well. What a waste. . . Hmm, was that callous of her to say?

“It's fascinating, actually,” Nik proselytized, slouched on the boulder as if it were a throne. “A werewolf who isn't beholden to the moon, a vampire who doesn't burn in the sun. A true hybrid.”

As if responding to a cue, Ray chose that exact moment to gasp awake, writhing on the ground like a fish out of water. Immediately, the aberrant feeling radiating from him increased tenfold. Sigrid gagged, suddenly feeling dizzy. She swayed forward, putting a hand on Nik’s shoulder and leaning most of her weight on him. He didn’t react visibly, but she felt him tense with concern beneath her palm. “Excellent timing Ray,” he said, none of his worry entering his voice. “Very dramatic.”

“What’s happening to me?” Ray asked, panicked.

“Stefan,” Nik prompted the younger vampire.

“Are any of you human?” Stefan asked, glancing curiously at Sigrid as he did so. “Your friend here,” he gestured to Ray, “needs human blood to complete his transition to vampire. If he doesn't get it, he will die.”

As Stefan explained, Nik stood and carefully helped Sigrid to sit on the boulder. Unfortunately this brought her closer to Ray and she had to press a hand against her mouth, swallowing back a little bile. Niklaus rubbed her back in firm circles, murmuring into her ear, “You know, this isn’t exactly what I meant when I said I hoped you were squeamish, love.”

Sigrid just groaned in response, burying her face in his chest. His familiar scent and energy were soothing, helping to minimize the effects Ray’s putrid aura was having on her. After a moment she was able to sit up, though she immediately put her head in her hands.

The female werewolf spoke up suddenly. “Why not use her blood, then?”

Sigrid knew without looking that the woman was talking about her. She changed her mind. Nik could kill them, for all Sigrid cared. “I’m not human, bitch,” she muttered, choosing not to add that her blood also had potent magical properties which could interact with someone in transition in any number of unpredictable ways.

“What are you then?” the woman challenged, stepping forward. Sigrid would almost admire her fire if she weren’t so busy trying not to vomit, and the woman wasn’t, you know, trying to offer her up as a blood bag.

Niklaus intervened then, standing up and moving towards the werewolf menacingly. “All you need to know, love,” he said lowly, “is that anyone who tries to take a bite out of her will die where they stand.” He held his looming position for a moment (just to assert his dominance, Sigrid assumed), before relaxing back into his jovial persona. “So. . . who’s ready to open up a vein for a good cause? It doesn’t take much. Anyone? A boyfriend, a girlfriend, along for the ride?” Oddly enough, no one volunteered. Not that it mattered. Nik was a vampire--or part vampire, at least. He could smell human blood a mile away. Indeed, he locked his eyes on the blond man quickly enough. “You.” Niklaus raced forward, grasping the man’s arm and biting it.

Blondie cried out in shock, but before he could so much as think of resisting or running, Niklaus tossed him to Stefan, who grabbed him and hurled him to the ground in front of Ray. The female wolf cried out a protest, eyes glinting gold in her rage as she rushed towards Blondie, who Sigrid realized belatedly was likely her boyfriend. Nik intercepted her, grabbing her by the throat.

Sigrid groaned. The rush of supernaturally sped up movement in front of her hadn’t helped her headache at all.

Stefan had Blondie pinned to the ground as he spoke to Ray. “If you don't drink it, Ray, I will. Problem is I don't know how to stop.”

“You can say that again,” Sigrid added, ignoring the dirty look Stefan directed her way. She shifted position on the rock, lying back and looking up at the canopy above. The late evening sun bathed her face comfortingly as the wind blew gently around her.

Mere feet away, she could hear Niklaus violently confronting the female werewolf, though Sigrid didn’t turn to watch. “It's the new order, sweetheart. You join us, or you die,” he said, sounding smug.

“I’d rather die than be a vampire,” the she-wolf hissed.

Nik chuckled. “Wrong choice.”  
What followed was a cacophony of noises Sigrid recognized all too well from her many years of experience with vampires. The sound of fangs piercing flesh, of blood being forced down someone’s throat, of a neck snapping. “She’ll thank me for that later,” Niklaus said, followed by the sound of a body dropping to the ground.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sigrid saw Ray eagerly sucking at the blond man’s arm. Her stomach roiled as he sat up, veins pulsing under his eyes. Oh Norns, that was disgusting. There was something so awfully, viscerally wrong with him. Whatever Ray Sutton was right now should never have existed. Sigrid’s vision spun.

“Who’s next?” she heard Niklaus ask, just before she rolled over and hurled up her dinner.

While Sigrid curled protectively around her stomach, a struggle broke out in earnest in the clearing as the werewolves fought either to escape or to avenge their fallen packmates. Even with the extra strength the wolves gained in the hours before the full moon, they were no match for Niklaus and Stefan, and within minutes they all lay dead on the forest floor, Nik’s blood in their systems.

Sigrid tossed an arm over her eyes. As it had been with Ray, those who were closest to waking up in transition were beginning to radiate the same offensive, unnatural energy that he had. Ray’s own aura was now nearly unbearable. The breeze picked up slightly, brushing against Sigrid’s face and through her sweaty brown locks, seeking to comfort her.

Mere feet from her, Ray shivered, coughing thickly. “They’re dead,” he chattered. “They’re all dead.”

Nik approached Sigrid’s rock, sitting by her head and running a casual hand through her hair. She grimaced up at him in an approximation of a smile. He flicked her nose lightly before turning to examine Ray. “He's through his transition. He should be feeling better soon.”

Sigrid hummed sarcastically. Sure, Ray’s aura was practically rotting, but no worries! He’d be perfectly fine!. “Yeah, unless something, oh I don’t know, goes horrifically wrong,” she said, glancing at her brother through narrowed brown eyes.

“Yes, thank you for your input, Sigrid,” Niklaus said snidely.

“So is this your master plan?” Stefan interjected, leaning against the same tree Sigrid had earlier. “Build an army of hybrid slaves?”

“No, not slaves. Soldiers, comrades,” Nik responded, standing to face Stefan.

Sigrid rolled her eyes, taking the opportunity to tune out their bickering and take a few deep breaths. But Ray’s energy was becoming more rancid by the minute, and, accordingly, more difficult to ignore. Abruptly, the wind whipped through the clearing, carrying a warning that only Sigrid could hear. She lurched into a sitting position almost against her will, eyes snapping to Ray immediately. Alarmingly, he was bleeding from his eyes. Sigrid groped behind her blindly for Niklaus’ arm, not taking her eyes off of Ray. “Nik,” she said  
urgently, interrupting his spat with Stefan. “Nik, something’s wrong.”

Her brother turned to her, immediately noticing the problem. He crossed to Ray and crouched in front of him, grabbing his face and turning it about. Stefan came over to have a look as well. “Huh,” the young vampire said. “That shouldn't be happening, should it?”

“Well, obviously,” Sigrid and Niklaus said in unison. Ooh, that didn’t happen very often! When Sigrid spoke at the same time as one of her siblings it was usually because she was mockingly repeating something she’d heard from them many times before, like one of Elijah’s lectures about manners, or the importance of wearing shoes to formal gatherings, for example.

“You said it was gonna feel better. Why doesn't it feel better?” Ray asked, plaintive enough that Sigrid felt a little sorry for him even though he was single handedly making her feel like she was about to pass out. Honestly it might be a blessing at this point.

“Some master race,” Stefan said smugly. Sigrid had half a mind to light him on fire.

“Lose the attitude,” Niklaus ordered, glaring.

Suddenly, the brunette she-wolf woke from death, gasping loudly. Sigrid doubled over as a new wave of discomfort washed over her, falling forward towards Ray. Norns, what was she going to do once they were all awake?

“Derek, come feed your girlfriend,” Nik said, dragging the human to his feet.

Sigrid had one wild moment to wonder when exactly Nik had learned Blondie’s name, before Ray--reacting to Derek’s blood or to Sigrid’s sudden proximity or any other factor--snapped completely. Roaring uncontrollably, he lunged for Sigrid’s throat, yanking her to his chest and sinking his fangs into her neck. Debilitated by her illness (only made worse by Ray’s presence in her personal space) Sigrid couldn’t react beyond crying out in surprise and pain. Ray managed one, two, three strong pulls of her blood (her incredibly powerful blood which strengthened vampires greatly, goddamnit!) before Niklaus yanked him off of her and threw him across the clearing with a roar of fury.

Unfortunately, in his haste to separate the rabid man from his sister, Niklaus miscalculated the force Sigrid could withstand in her weakened state. She went flying backwards, tripping over tree roots, and fell at just the right angle to crack her head on the boulder as her body fell to the ground. She heard the sickening sound of her own neck snapping, and then nothing more than the sudden, muffled nothingness of death.

* * *

When Sigrid gasped back to life an hour or so later, she had been arranged carefully on the boulder, head pillowed on a pilfered sleeping bag. The sun had set and all of the werewolves were dead. Actually dead, this time, not just in transition. She sighed in relief, realizing that their corrupt energy had faded with their passing.

Nik sat by her feet, nursing a beer. He glanced at her as she sat up, massaging her own neck with a wince. “I guess you were right,” he said bitterly, squeezing the bottle tightly enough that Sigrid worried it would burst.

The almost giddy relief that had filled Sigrid at the werewolves’ deaths evaporated as she flooded with sympathy for her brother. “Oh, Nik,” she said, scooting over to press her thigh against his. “I’m sorry it didn’t work.” She dearly wished to wrap her arms around him, anger at her brother forgotten in the face of his crushing disappointment, but she sensed it wouldn’t be well received at the moment.

“Not going to say ‘I told you so?’” Niklaus asked scathingly.

Sigrid shut that right down. “Don’t take your anger out on me,” she said firmly, holding his glare for a moment before allowing her eyes to soften. “I would never revel in your heartache, Niklaus, and I know this venture means more to you than merely building an army against Father.”

For a second he looked as though he would swell with fury, but Sigrid merely held his gaze sincerely. She had centuries of practice with Niklaus’ temper. Eventually, he sighed and looked away, taking another swig of his beer. Sigrid relaxed, and they sat in silence for a moment or two.

Shortly thereafter, Stefan reappeared with Ray’s corpse swung over his shoulders for the second time that day. He looked rather pale and sweaty, and it only took Sigrid a moment to locate the inflamed werewolf bite on his forearm. He dumped Ray’s body on the ground, staring in shock around the clearing full of dead wolves. . . and at Sigrid. Oh that’s right, she’d been dead when he left. “You’re alive!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“Acutely observed,” she said dryly.

Stefan grimaced. “Ah, right,” he said intelligently. Grimacing, he looked at Derek’s girlfriend’s corpse. “What happened?” he questioned.

“They went rabid,” Nik explained sourly. “Some of them, I killed. The others just. . . bled out. In the end, they're all dead.” He stood suddenly, erupting with rage as he hurled his bottle against a tree, shattering it. Sigrid winced as the shards fell to the earth. Her brother screamed wordlessly. “I did everything I was told!” he shouted. Niklaus whirled toward Sigrid, and she stood to meet him. She should have realized this explosion was inevitable. “I should be able to turn them,” he hissed. “I broke the curse. I killed a werewolf. I killed a vampire. I killed the doppelganger.” He looked to Sigrid pleadingly, and she knew without speaking what he wanted her to reassure him of.

“Yes, Nik, yes,” Sigrid soothed, grabbing him by the forearms to anchor him. “You did break the curse, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to shift. Mo--” she cut herself off, glancing at Stefan who was. . . looking rather shifty. Hmm. “The Original Witch’s,” Sigrid amended, “magic is gone from your system. Whatever this was. . . well, I don’t doubt it was her doing, somehow. You know how she felt about hybrids. The illness I felt today is the same one I felt when she cursed you all those years ago. But this time it affected all of them, not you,” Sigrid explained, and as she did so Niklaus began to calm, a calculating look coming over his face. “This should never have happened, the condition these wolves were in was unnatural. You should have been able to turn them this way,” she assured. She looked away from Niklaus, toward Ray and all the other dead werewolves. Sigrid bit her lip. “There must have been some sort of condition built into the spell,” she muttered.

“Condition?” Nik asked immediately. “What kind of condition?”

Sigrid couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I don’t know, Nik. For the millionth time, I’m not a witch,” she said, exasperated. “But if I know anything about magic, and I do, it’s that there’s always a workaround.” She turned to look her brother dead in the eyes. “No matter how powerful the Original Witch was, she could not have made it completely impossible for you to create more hybrids. You will have to consult an actual witch to learn what that loophole might be, however.”

“Wait,” Stefan interjected. Sigrid and Niklaus rounded on him as one, and he stumbled backwards slightly, eyes out of focus. Ah, of course. While they were talking, his bite had only grown worse. He would begin hallucinating soon. Sigrid briefly considered offering him some of her blood. It wouldn’t heal the bite, but it would delay its effects until Nik got around to curing him. Almost immediately, she decided against it. Stefan was a Ripper after all, and the worst Sigrid had ever seen, at that. He’d probably get completely high on her magical blood, then completely addicted to it, and then completely dead when she lit him on fire for trying to suck her dry. “You’re not a witch?” Stefan asked.

Ugh, as if being a bore and a messy eater wasn’t enough, apparently Stefan was also an idiot. “I’m a thousand years old, you just saw me die and come back to life, and you still thought I was a witch?” Sigrid questioned, utterly unimpressed.

Remarkably, Stefan pinked slightly at the cheeks. “Well, what are you then?” he asked bravely.

Sigrid raised an eyebrow. “None of your beeswax.”

“Alright, enough,” Niklaus said. Norns, Sigrid didn’t want to hear that from him! He reached down to grab an empty beer bottle, then bit his hand and allowed a mouthful or two of blood to drip into the glass. He shoved it at Stefan’s chest. “Bottom’s up,” Niklaus smirked, much more cheerful now that he had a plan to deal with the problem. “Now, let’s get out of here. I know just the witch to help us out.”

Niklaus made to waltz dramatically out of the clearing, but Sigrid snagged him by the arm before he could leave, pulling him to a harsh stop. “Um, excuse me,” she snapped, placing her hands on her hips. She gestured around the campsite. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Niklaus?” When he just stared at her blankly in confusion, Sigrid narrowed her eyes, wind whipping around her in agitation. “If you think for even one second that I’m letting you leave here without cleaning this mess up, you’ve got another thing coming!”

Nik turned to face her properly, incredulous. Behind them, Stefan stifled a snicker. “Excuse me?” Sigrid’s brother asked, bewildered.

She crossed her arms. “We’re in a national park, Nik! You can’t just leave all this crap here!”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about the bodies, Sigrid, someone will find them eventually and call it an animal attack or someth--”

“Forget about the bodies!” Sigrid interrupted. “Look at all this plastic! There’s garbage and glass and, ugh, nylon.” She whirled on Niklaus. “Do you have any idea how long that stuff lasts? Forever, Nik! It’s not exactly biodegradable! We can’t just leave it here. Pack in, pack out, Niklaus!”

“Strictly speaking, I didn’t pack any of this stuff, love,” Niklaus responded, sounding amused despite himself.

Sigrid wasn’t about to accept any excuses for littering from her own family. They should know better! “Yeah, well, you inherited their mess when you killed them all,” she decreed. “So get cleaning--both of you, Stefan, so stop laughing--because we’re not leaving this forest until it looks untouched. Hmm. . . I guess we can leave the bodies though. Those will decompose eventually. They actually make great fertilizer!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 really does NOT want to be written, which is why it took me a while to get this one published. Not sure when the next chapter will be out, as it's shaping up to be rather long, but hopefully within the week!
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy as they can in this difficult time. Please take care of yourselves!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid is straight up not having a good time right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one starts in a very different place than it ends, emotionally speaking, but I hope you enjoy!

As Niklaus drove the van nonstop towards Chicago and his witch contact, Sigrid’s connection to her daggered siblings grew clearer and clearer to the point where she knew that if they weren’t in the city itself, then they were certainly nearby. They were still cloaked, of course, and Sigrid wouldn’t be able to find them via her senses alone, but she was  _ close _ . Closer than she’d been to any of them in years, and closer to finding them with every mile Nik drove. A buzz of anticipation--hope and anxiety combined--filled her stomach. There was every possibility that this would go wrong, that Nik would be furious enough to dagger her along with the rest of them when he discovered her deception. And he  _ would _ discover it, Sigrid had no doubt about that. Not when he was taking her to the very place he had stored their family. Even if he didn’t yet suspect her, Niklaus knew that Sigrid could sense their siblings’ presence. He’d likely be monitoring her movements carefully. But Sigrid had given Elijah her word, and quite frankly enough was enough. She may have understood why he was so angry and scared, but Niklaus’ fear had controlled their family for centuries. She couldn’t just tolerate it forever. Finn and Kol and Rebekah. . . Elijah now, too. They deserved to live, and to thrive, and to enjoy all the world had to offer. She would do her best for them, even if it landed her a silver knife in her heart.

Sigrid shuddered at the thought. Silver was one of the few materials that could truly harm her, that could make her weak and cause her pain. What those daggers did to her. . . well, her siblings didn’t know the half of it, and she intended to keep it that way.

“Something the matter?” Niklaus asked, glancing at her shivering form. Stefan looked up briefly from where he’d been moodily staring out the window in the back seat, then returned to his angst fest. Well, at least he was being quiet. Honestly, he’d seemed much more tolerable--if a bit dull--before Nik had gotten him hooked on human blood. Still, Stefan had no one to blame for his lack of self-control but himself.

“No,” Sigrid responded. “Just. . . dwelling on things best not dwelled upon.” There, that wasn’t even a lie!

“Well, pull yourself together sister!” Niklaus encouraged, grinning madly. “The Windy City awaits! And we’ll be there soon.”

Indeed, within half an hour the Chicago skyline became visible on the horizon, bright neon lights illuminating the night sky. It looked very different now than it had the last time she’d been here, over 90 years ago. Then, Sigrid had been in town only briefly, as she had left Nik and Rebekah here after only a few days in order to go lay a false trail for Father. Of all her siblings, Sigrid was safest from Mikael’s rage, both in that he had no way to permanently kill her and that he had never expressed a desire to do so. On the other hand, she wasn’t as sturdy as the rest of her family, and on the rare occasion that her father had gotten his hands on her, she had suffered his wrath at her refusal to betray her siblings. Siblings who she could now feel only just beyond her reach. 

Even from clear across the city, Sigrid could easily sense the immense body of water that was Lake Michigan, waves ebbing and flowing just as they did in the sea. She rolled her window down (Niklaus sighed long-sufferingly as she released all of the cold from the air conditioning) to take a deep breath of. . . not very fresh air. Eugh. Sigrid was unfortunately used to the smell and feel of pollution as it passed around her, as incompatible with her being as oil was with water. Still, through the veil of smog that was present in so many places these days, Sigrid could feel the clean touch of the winds that whipped off the surface of the Great Lake.

As they reached the very outskirts of the city, surrounded by cars even in the dead of night, Niklaus hesitated at a fork in the road for less than a second. Still it was enough for Sigrid to lock onto his slip. She stared carefully ahead, trying to project ignorance as he glanced at her sharply, boring a hole in her temple as he attempted to judge whether she had noticed. For a moment, the tension between them was incredibly thick. Niklaus looked back to the road, and turned right, toward the eastern side of the city.

Sigrid resisted the urge to blow out a relieved breath. She made a mental note of this intersection and the turn Nik had nearly taken out of habit, before he remembered she was with him.

Her siblings were to the west. She’d search every building in that half of the city if she had to.

“Welcome back to Chicago, Stefan,” Niklaus said, a hint of devilish mockery in his voice. The city lights blurred around them as they drove deeper into the metropolis.

“What are we doing here?” Stefan asked grumpily, eyebrows furrowed. 

Sigrid rolled her eyes. Didn’t he ever use his critical thinking skills? He knew they needed to consult a witch about Nik’s hybrid problem, they’d driven here directly from the Smoky Mountains where they had discussed this exact issue. . . Seemed pretty clear cut to Sigrid.

But Nik, of course, had to tease Stefan a bit before getting to the heart of the issue, alluding to the friendship Sigrid knew they’d shared here in the ‘20s when he said, “I know how much you loved it here. Bringing back memories of the good old Ripper days?” Stefan, naturally, would think Niklaus had simply heard about his old rampages in Chicago through the grapevine. The Ripper of Monterey was quite infamous, after all.

“Blacked out most of them,” Stefan admitted, a note of something pained in his voice. He clearly hated what he became when he drank human blood. Despite herself, Sigrid felt a twinge of pity. “A lot of blood, a lot of partying. The details are all a blur.”

“Well, that is a crying shame,” Niklaus said, sounding almost offended on Stefan’s behalf. As usual, he had the emotional sensitivity of a toadstool. He continued, utterly carefree as he obliquely referenced the havoc and carnage Stefan had wreaked as a Ripper. “The details are what make it legend.” Sigrid very much wanted to avoid learning any of those details. “Word was the Ripper of Monterey got lonely, so he escaped to the city for comfort. It was Prohibition. Everything was off limits then, which made everything so much fun,” Niklaus added with relish. 

Okay, it was time for Sigrid to intervene before she heard anything permanently scarring. “All right, that’s enough of that conversation,” she interjected quickly, having no desire to hear about  _ any _ kind of . . . fun her brother might have had during Prohibition.

Nik laughed the laugh of an older brother pleased with having disgusted his younger sister, and Sigrid couldn’t help the warmth that flooded her at the sound. Stefan, for his part, looked utterly shocked at the reminder that Niklaus was, in fact, capable of positive emotion. “Down to business then? That’s a shame. Chicago is a magical place,” Niklaus chuckled as he drove them further and further east, closer to the lake and the Magnificent Mile.

Stefan sighed, leaning forward into the gap between the front seats and glancing from Nik to Sigrid. “Why am I still with you?” he complained half-heartedly. “We had our fun, your hybrids failed. I mean, don't you want to move on?”

Sigrid scoffed. “Niklaus never moves on from anything until he gets his way. Besides, did you conveniently forget the part where that’s a problem a decent witch could help us solve?”

Stefan frowned, leaning back once more and crossing his arms.

“And my favorite witch lives right here in your old stomping grounds, Stefan,” Nik smirked. The younger vampire didn’t grace that with a response. “If anyone can help us with our hybrid problem, it's her.”

“But it’s the middle of the night,” Sigrid said pointedly. “And some of us, including your witch, need to sleep.” Sigrid may not have needed as much sleep as a human, or even most vampires, but dying took more out of her than it did her siblings, and she always felt less energized when she was in the city.

Niklaus looked at her sidelong, seeming annoyed at her excellent suggestion, but agreed. “Fair enough, sister. Luckily, I know the best hotel in town.” He changed direction suddenly, heading a bit further north, and in just a few short minutes pulled into the front entrance of an incredibly large and expensive-looking hotel. It was the kind of place where one definitely had to make reservations weeks, if not months in advance, but that had never stopped Niklaus. Indeed, as he hopped out of the car and went to deal with the valet, he called over his shoulder, “Go and compel us a couple of rooms, would you Stefan?” Then, just as Sigrid was pulling herself tiredly out of the van, he added suddenly, “Take Sigrid with you.”

Too surprised to keep herself from reacting, Sigrid’s head snapped toward her brother sharply, only to find him staring directly at her, an unreadable look in his eye. She swallowed. Right. He suspected  _ something _ , at least. That made sense, since Niklaus knew that Sigrid would be able to sense their siblings in the city. Even if she hadn’t already been looking for them, it would have been impossible to miss their presence, and her brother would certainly be expecting her to have a reaction to that. So they were doing this tonight. She’d have to come up with some way to throw him off the scent if she was to have any hope of finding her family, let alone waking them up.

Eyes narrowed thoughtfully, Sigrid followed Stefan into the resplendent hotel lobby. She glanced over her shoulder when they reached the welcome desk, observing through the large glass doors as Nik amicably placed a hand on the valet’s shoulder and leaned in to make eye contact. “Two rooms, Stefan,” she murmured distractedly when the young vampire looked to her for instruction. “A king and two queens. Nik and I will share tonight.” Dimly, she noticed that Stefan seemed surprised by this, but nonetheless he dutifully leaned in to compel the hotel clerk. Far more of Sigrid’s attention was focused on Niklaus, who had just passed the car keys to the valet. The doubtlessly compelled man got behind the wheel of the van that contained Sigrid’s desiccated brother and drove off, out of the parking lot and into the city. No doubt he was taking Elijah’s body to wherever the rest of their siblings were kept. Sigrid fought not to let her frustration show as Nik waltzed in to join them at the front desk. There went her plan to follow Elijah’s body back to her family. With Niklaus so suspicious, she supposed it was too much to hope for things to be easy. 

“Shall we?” Nik asked as he reached them, smoothly taking the room keys from the glazed-looking woman behind the desk. He acted casual, but Sigrid could feel his attention on her even when he was looking elsewhere. Great.

The elevator ride was tense. Sigrid wasn’t a fan of enclosed spaces, especially indoors, not to mention that she wasn’t bothering to hide her irritation with her brother. He’d no doubt be expecting her to feel upset, and she wasn’t one to conceal her feelings. Doing so now would only make him think she was hiding something (if he didn’t already)--which, of course, she was. Norns, she hated playing mind games with her siblings. They were all so much better at it then she was.

When they arrived on their floor, Sigrid all but bolted from the elevator, swiping a room key from Nik as she went and stomping off towards their room. Her brother stayed behind with Stefan for a moment (no doubt reminding him of all the nasty things that would happen if the Ripper took advantage of this alone time to do anything Nik wouldn’t like) before smoothly catching up to her. Sigrid huffed as he beat her to the door, unlocking and opening it before she could even figure out which way to insert the key.

Upon entering the room, Sigrid went straight to the huge window on the opposite wall, only to wilt when she realized it didn’t open. She needed air for this conversation, and city air was better than inside air. Sigrid sighed, looking out over the flashing city lights below and the immense lake that was just visible over the tops of some smaller buildings. The water stretched as far into the distance as her eyes could see.

“So,” she began, making eye contact with Niklaus’ reflection as he approached her from behind. Perhaps by initiating this conversation, not allowing him to take control and confront her, she’d be able to give off the impression that she  _ hadn’t _ been specifically hoping to find their siblings when she’d set off with him earlier that summer. “This is where you’ve been keeping them, then.”

Nik chuckled. “Naturally, you can sense them,” he said, sounding perfectly at ease. Sigrid wasn’t fooled.

She turned to face her brother, putting her back to the window. She could still see the lights shining in his bright blue eyes. She loved his eyes. But he shared those eyes with Rebekah, and right now they were reflecting the very city where he had buried a dagger in her chest nearly a century ago. Sigrid steeled herself. “You can relax,” she assured. “Your witch’s cloaking spell is working perfectly. I can tell that they’re here in Chicago,” Sigrid volunteered, hoping to assuage Nik’s suspicions by offering plenty of information, “but it’s as if their energy is suffused throughout the entire city. For all I can tell, they could just as easily be next door as clear across town.”

Niklaus smirked, but didn’t relax completely. Of course not, because that would be too easy. “Nothing but the best for our beloved siblings, Sigrid,” he snarked. He was trying to get a rise out of her, and he knew just what buttons to push.

Sigrid firmly tamped down most of her reaction, but allowed some of her anger and hurt at that remark to bleed through. She stepped into her brother’s space and looked him square in the eye. “Let me be clear,” Sigrid said flatly. “The only reason I’m not leaving you behind by yourself and going to tear this city apart looking for them is that I know you  _ genuinely _ think this is what’s best.” She avoided lying by the skin of her teeth. It was always a risk to confront Niklaus directly like this, it got his back up like nothing else, but hopefully being firm in this moment would convince him that she had no plans to search for their siblings. Not for the first time this summer, she felt a pang at deceiving him, but squashed it for the sake of the brothers and sister who were depending on her. “But I don’t agree with your methods, and my patience isn’t infinite. You and I both know this isn’t a permanent solution to the problem.”

Niklaus narrowed his eyes furiously, grabbing her arm harshly and yanking her forward. “If you were anyone else,” he hissed lowly, “I would have killed you for saying that.”

Ignoring the pain emanating from her bicep as her brother ground her muscles together, Sigrid didn’t break eye contact. “You  _ have _ killed me for saying that,” she pointed out quietly, remembering vividly the times Niklaus had daggered her for speaking out against him or attempting to free her siblings. “That’s precisely my point.”

* * *

Miraculously, Nik chose not to dagger her for pointing out his shortcomings as a brother. Still, the tension between the siblings was markedly thick as they entered the witch’s bar the next morning, Stefan glancing questioningly between them. Sigrid was sure Nik no longer suspected her of having come here  _ looking _ to undagger their family, but that wasn’t particularly reassuring given that he now  _ definitely _ suspected her of wanting to do so anyway. A dagger could still very well be coming her way in the not so distant future. 

So  _ maybe _ Sigrid hadn’t controlled her anger as well as she should have. Normally, she considered her ability to be emotionally open with her siblings to be a good thing (this family needed at least one emotionally intelligent member, or Norns only knew what would happen), but  _ normally _ she tried to stay out of all their scheming against one another. Considering that was part of how things had gone to hell, she might have to adjust her strategy in the future. 

“Looks familiar, doesn't it?” Nik asked Stefan leadingly.

“I can't believe this place is still here,” the younger man responded, sounding fond despite himself. He might not remember what he’d done here in Chicago in the 20s, but clearly the emotions remained. 

Sigrid glanced around the dusty bar and wrinkled her nose. The air in here was dreadfully still, and dense with magic. It made her want to sneeze. She would much rather be out looking for her siblings than anywhere near this old place. It ached that her family was so close, and that with every passing second she could feel her chance of waking them slipping away. She longed to scatter herself into the wind to search for them, but Niklaus already knew exactly where they were, and he had his eye on her. The second she disappeared, he would move them, and she wouldn’t get another chance. 

The concentration of magic in the room shifted suddenly as the witch arrived. “You gotta be kidding me,” the newcomer said as she walked up behind them. She was a beautiful woman with rich dark skin and bleached hair, but Sigrid could tell she was older than she looked.

Nik smiled, joking, “So a hybrid walks into a bar, says to the bartender--”

“Stop,” the witch interjected, walking closer. “You may be invincible, but that doesn't make you funny.”

Sigrid snorted. As the distance between her and the witch closed and the woman’s magic spread throughout the room, it became obvious to Sigrid that this was the very witch who had cloaked her siblings here in the city. She was halfway tempted to slam her up against the wall and demand answers--or even just outright kill her, since that would likely release the spell--but that would be counterproductive with Niklaus right there. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she loved Nik and actually  _ did _ want him to be able to create hybrids. Still, the urge to attack was strong. Sigrid was a Mikaelson, after all. But if the witch kept sticking it to Nik like that, perhaps Sigrid could find it in her heart to let the woman live. 

The witch shivered. Whoops. Sigrid must have accidentally released a little of her power into the air in her anger. The woman glanced at her somewhat nervously, but turned back to Stefan after a moment. “I remember you,” she said, visibly collecting herself. It was odd to see a woman uncowed by even Niklaus quaking at the sight of little old her, but Sigrid knew she could be very intimidating to witches, even when she was trying to project friendliness (which she definitely wasn’t at the moment). She represented raw natural power, after all, and witches typically either coveted her and all she could offer them. . . or ran as fast and far as they could in the opposite direction.

“Yeah,” Stefan responded slowly, as if only just unearthing a long forgotten memory. “You're Gloria. Shouldn't you be…” he trailed off suggestively.

“Old and dead?” Gloria provided bluntly. She was on much more even footing when dealing with Stefan, and it showed in her demeanor. As long as she avoided Sigrid’s eyes, she remained calm and confident. “Now if I die, who's going to run this place, huh?”

“Gloria's a very powerful witch,” Nik whispered loudly, leaning into Stefan’s space with his hands clasped behind his back like a little schoolgirl telling a secret. Stefan leaned away.

Sigrid hummed. She’d seen better, and so had Nik, but Gloria’s power was certainly nothing to sneeze at. 

“I can slow the aging down some,” Gloria said, allowing herself a slightly wary glance at Sigrid. “Herbs and spells. But don't worry, it'll catch up to me one day.”

Sigrid leaned back against the bar and crossed her arms, tilting her head to catch Gloria’s eye. “Oh, it certainly will. But that’s enough talk about such a lovely woman’s age, don’t you think?” She smiled predatorily at the witch, dimples showing. “ Let’s get down to business.”

“Quite,” Nik agreed, lounging beside her and mimicking her expression. For all that Sigrid resembled Kol and Elijah more than Niklaus, in that moment anyone would have been able to tell that they were siblings. “Stefan,” he politely ordered, “why don't you go and fix us up a little something from behind the bar?”

The vampire raised his brows, but accepted the dismissal. “Yeah, sure thing,” he acquiesced, moving around the dark wooden bar top. 

Nik placed a hand on the small of Sigrid’s back and led her to a table across the room, Gloria following in their wake. “You look ravishing, by the way,” he told the witch, a winning grin on his lips. 

“I couldn’t agree more, brother,” Sigrid said, the compliment sounding somehow threatening as she dropped carelessly into a seat, crossing her legs and refusing to break eye contact with Gloria, despite the woman’s clear discomfort. Oh, it didn’t show on her  _ face _ , but her eyes held the primal look of a prey animal confronted by a predator. Sigrid couldn’t deny that it was somewhat satisfying. She’d been dealing with too many young supernaturals lately, ones who didn’t realize just what kind of force they were dealing with when they faced her. Of course, the older generations didn’t know  _ exactly _ what she was capable of either. Sigrid had carefully concocted, cultivated, and disseminated many different rumors about herself over the centuries. Some were true, others less so. Depending on what people had heard, they either pissed their pants at the sight of her, or dismissed her out of hand. Either way, Sigrid was of the opinion that it was better for your enemies not to have too accurate an understanding of your strengths and weaknesses. 

“You must be Sigrid,” Gloria said, admirably managing to keep her voice steady even as her hands shook minutely. “The Original--”

“Ah, ah, ah, darling,” Sigrid cut her off, gesturing over her shoulder to Stefan, who was not being at all subtle in his eavesdropping. Stefan’s ignorance of her capabilities might be insulting, but it was also convenient. “Best keep that quiet, if you know what’s good for you.”

Gloria nodded tightly. “Right. Well, I think I can guess why you’re here,” she said. “A hybrid out to make more hybrids? That kind of news travels.”

“Well hopefully you’ve done your homework then,” Sigrid said, leaning forward with a false smile. Perhaps it was unfair of her to take her frustrations out on Gloria, but, well, she was a much safer target than Niklaus at this point. “And we can get this figured out quickly.”

Her brother clamped a warning hand on her shoulder, and she settled back again. “So what am I doing wrong?” Nik asked. “I broke the curse.”

“Obviously you did  _ something  _ wrong,” Gloria pointed out. 

“No, he  _ didn’t _ ,” Sigrid disagreed, irritated. She may have been scheming against Niklaus for the good of their family, but this was important to him, and she wanted to help him with this, at least. Especially since he probably wouldn’t want her assistance anymore after she tried her hand at freeing their siblings--whether or not she was successful. “He did everything perfectly, otherwise the spell wouldn’t have broken at all, and he still wouldn’t be able to shift,” she insisted. “Besides, it made me physically ill to be near those failed hybrids. Something was wrong with  _ them,  _ not Niklaus. It’s almost like there’s some additional clause in the curse that hasn’t been fulfilled yet.” 

Gloria hummed consideringly. “It’s possible. Every spell has a loophole, but a curse that old. . . We'd have to contact the witch who created it.”

Sigrid’s heart sank. Of course Gloria would want to contact Mother. This  _ was _ obviously her doing, after all. Still, Sigrid had absolutely no doubts that getting Mother involved in this mess would only make things worse. 

“Well, that would be the Original Witch,” Niklaus said, glancing sidelong at Sigrid. “She's very dead.”

“I know,” Gloria said, nodding. “And for me to contact her, I'll need help. Bring me Rebekah.”

Sigrid’s heart leapt from her stomach straight to her throat, where it choked her with a small amount of hope, and an overwhelming amount of dread. All of her frustration and resentment flooded out of her at once, replaced by fear. She turned to meet Niklaus’ eye, only to find him staring at her with what almost looked like regret. “Rebekah,” he repeated, not looking away from Sigrid. “Rebekah is a bit preoccupied.”

Dimly, Sigrid heard Gloria respond that yes, she needed Rebekah. The majority of her attention stayed on her brother as the world around them seemed to shrink and dissolve away until all she could see was Niklaus, gazing at her with that damned look of remorse, as if what was to come was completely unavoidable. As if he had no other choice when he  _ did _ , he absolutely  _ did _ . “I could stay here, Nik,” Sigrid offered quietly, a little desperately, already knowing what he would say. It was amazing how quickly she could go from reveling in her power over Gloria to feeling so trapped and powerless herself. Karma, she supposed bitterly.

“No,” Niklaus murmured. “You really can’t.”

And Sigrid could see where this was going, because she had been here before. Niklaus couldn’t leave her here while he went to retrieve Rebekah, because he couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t follow and find where he was keeping their siblings. Neither Gloria nor Stefan would ever be able to stop Sigrid from leaving the bar if she wanted to. But if he took her with him, she would  _ definitely _ know where he was keeping their siblings, and Niklaus being who he was. . . he’d never let her leave that place alive. 

“I promised Elijah I’d try my best, you know?” Sigrid admitted, a sort of slow, empty feeling creeping throughout her body as she realized with complete certainty that she had failed her family. Maybe if she were more like the rest of them, if she were more willing to hurt the people she loved. . . But she didn’t want to be. She didn’t  _ want _ to believe that the only way to save the rest of her siblings was to hurt the one in front of her. And look where that had gotten her. Were they really so beyond help? “Can I--can I at least see them? Before?” Sigrid asked in a small voice. 

And--the absolute  _ gall _ of him--Niklaus actually had a fond look in his eye when he agreed. “Of course.”

They departed Gloria’s not long after that, Stefan yammering away about some picture he’d found taped up behind the bar. Slowly, impeded by midmorning traffic, they made their way to an industrial warehouse across town, on the west side of the city. Well, at least Sigrid had been right about that. Not that it made much of a difference now.

When they arrived at the old concrete and metal building, Niklaus compelled Stefan to wait in the car and not to listen in on whatever happened in the warehouse until Nik came back out to get him. Sigrid was glad. The last thing she wanted was for Stefan to witness this. 

Nik unlocked the padlock on the building’s rolling metal door, then lifted it just enough for the two of them to duck under it and into the warehouse, before dropping it to the ground again behind them with a thunderous clang. The large room inside was dimly lit, but there was enough sunlight coming in through the windows at the back to see by. Bathed in that natural light were six gleaming mahogany caskets, five of them occupied. That area of the room was in sharp juxtaposition to the rest of it, where the sun didn’t quite reach and rows of tall, metal shelving units stored bits and bobs and old cardboard boxes. Sigrid mustered enough dull anger to scowl at her brother. “Honestly, Nik,” she muttered, eyeing the thick layer of dust gathered on the shelves. “Keeping them in a place like this.”

“I know, I know,” he answered in a falsely glib tone. Anyone else might be fooled, but Sigrid could tell he was faking being unaffected. Likely, he was trying to provoke her somehow, for whatever reason. “You hate places like this. Hate cities too, for that matter.” He strode forward, brushing past Sigrid to open her siblings’ coffins so that she could see them, as promised. “That was the idea, though. Had to put them someplace you’d never want to go, never find yourself accidentally.”

Not deeming this worth a response (other than an internal note to check places she hated if she ever had to hunt down her daggered siblings again), Sigrid ignored Nik in favor of the rest of her family. She wove in and out of the spaces between their caskets, reaching in and stroking each of their faces. Their skin was as dry as paper, and she couldn’t help but worry that if she pressed too hard they might crack. A tear dripped out of her eye to land on Finn’s nose. She hadn’t seen him in so very long. She stroked Kol’s hair away from his face, thumbing his temple, and squeezed Rebekah’s hand as she passed. “You’ll be awake soon, sister,” Sigrid reassured quietly. “Not long now.” 

When she reached Elijah, she hesitated, an enormous weight seeming to fall upon her, crushing her from the inside out. Sigrid leaned over his body and pressed her forehead to his (careful to avoid the silver dagger in his chest, lest it burn her), just as she had done after Niklaus had daggered him all those weeks ago. He had trusted her, had thought no one better for the job. As usual, she had let him down. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, lips pressed to his ear in the hopes that he might hear her, though she knew he couldn’t. Her siblings weren’t like her, after all. 

Slowly, Sigrid pulled back from the brother she had failed. She stayed by the side of his coffin, her own lurking menacingly in her peripheral vision. She eyed the dagger embedded in Elijah’s rib cage.

“You could take it out, you know?” Niklaus said leadingly from behind her. She whipped her head around to glare at him where he was leaning casually against the metal corner of a nearby shelving unit, cast in shadows. He continued, smirking, “You could blast me across the room, undagger the lot of them, make a run for it. . .” He trailed off, grinning madly. 

Ah. Now Sigrid understood what was happening. Understood why Nik had gone from undeniably (yet infuriatingly) sad at the bar, to intentionally irritating here. “You’re trying to antagonize me,” Sigrid said coolly. “Why? Is that what you  _ want _ me to do, Niklaus?” she asked, crossing her arms and raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Want me to fight back? Hurl you across the room so you have an excuse to stick that dagger in me? So you won’t feel so  _ guilty _ about it afterwards?” she hissed. He didn’t respond, but the shift in his jaw was anser enough for Sigrid. She laughed humorlessly. “Well, I’m not going to. What would be the point?”

“Say that I did send you flying. That I knock you out of commission for a few minutes,” she continued when he didn’t say anything. “Maybe I  _ could _ manage to get all the daggers out before you came to, but there’s no way of knowing how long it would take them to actually  _ wake up _ . Could be 20 minutes. Could be hours. Either way,” Sigrid said, taking a step closer to her brother, who straightened, smirk falling. “You and I both know that the only way to stop you from coming over here and sticking the daggers right back in would be for me to kill you. To snap your neck. Over, and  _ over _ again,” she took another step towards him, “until I could get them all awake and out of here.” Sigrid stopped at the line past which the natural light of the sun no longer penetrated the shadows, her brother not even a foot in front of her. “And I don’t want to do that, Nik,” she finished. “Norns help me, because maybe it’s what I  _ should _ do, but I don’t want to.”

He looked away. “That’s your problem, love. No one else in this family would hesitate.”

“Well, someone has to!” Sigrid exploded suddenly, her voice echoing against the walls of the warehouse. Her emotions, which had felt somewhat muffled since her realization back at the bar, abruptly returned in full force, at full volume. “ _ Someone _ has to hesitate, Nik! Someone has to realize that this is madness, that we can’t just keep hurting each other!” She sighed harshly, running her hands up over her forehead and through her hair. “I just wish it didn’t always have to be me.” Sigrid rubbed her temples. It was nearly impossible for her to get a headache, yet she could somehow feel one coming on. “I mean, God only knows what Finn would do since he’s been in a  _ box _ for 900 years, but the rest of you?” She looked wildly at Niklaus, who actually took a small step back. “You? And Bekah and Kol? Norns, even Elijah! You’re all so eager to tear each other apart! Well, I’m telling you, Nik, I want no part of it!”

As suddenly as they’d arrived, Sigrid’s vivid emotions left again, leaving her to sag, feeling drained. She turned halfway away from Niklaus to glance at her casket, the embossed “S” on the top shining in the sunlight. “So no, brother, I won’t fight you,” Sigrid said. With some difficulty, she tore her eyes away from the coffin that would soon be her home for who knew how long. She met her brother’s gaze insistently. “And If you’re going to put that dagger in my chest, then you’re going to look me in the eye while you do it, and know that it wasn’t necessary. You’re  _ going _ to feel guilty, Niklaus, because if you do this, then you should. And while you might have convinced the world, and our siblings that you don’t feel guilt, I know the truth,” Sigrid concluded, mostly calm but with a slight, undeniable tremble to her voice. Even after all these years, the threat of pain still frightened her.

She could tell that Nik wanted to react with anger, that he wanted to allow her words to provoke him and work him up into a rage so that he could dagger her with no remorse. Like Sigrid, he did  _ so _ hate feeling guilty. Unlike Sigrid, he never let that stop him. But Sigrid also knew that Nik would never exert disproportionate violence on a compliant target, let alone one of his own siblings,  _ let alone _ his baby sister. Unprovoked punishment reminded him far too much of Mikael. So it was with gritted teeth but a forced calm that Niklaus stalked towards her, removing a silver dagger from the inner pocket of his jacket. “Very well,” he said, sounding determined. But when he wrapped an arm around Sigrid’s waist--preparing to catch her when she fell--and felt how she shivered at the sight of the weapon, any remaining anger visibly left him. He hesitated slightly, but Sigrid didn’t allow herself to hope. “I’m sorry, sister,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her forehead and urging her to bury her face in his neck. 

She did so, unashamed to take any comfort she could get. As always, the moments before the dagger pierced her heart seemed unending, each second was torture, why wouldn’t he just get on with it alread--

The instant the silver touched her chest, all Sigrid could feel was agony. Skin, then muscle, tendon,  _ bone _ smoked and sizzled as the toxic metal seemed to cleave her in two. Her body was surely splitting, her blood boiling as the poison spread through her like a wildfire. She hacked up blood and mucus, the silver dagger jostling up against her ribs and her heart and her lungs and she was burning, she must have been, she could feel it! Her insides, her outsides, they were surely flaking away into ash!

Where was Nik? Elijah? Her brothers and sister, where were they? Why weren’t they helping her, they promised they always would! Couldn't they see she was burning? That she was dying, dying just like poor little Henrik, like Freya? Burning like Marcellus had burned with the opera house? It hurt! Couldn’t they--! Why--?

**. . .**

And as Sigrid fell into death, her heart stopped beating, but her body continued to burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one's a bit of a doozy, huh? Longest chapter yet (about twice as long as usual), but it didn't feel right to chop it in half so here it is. Poor Sigrid is having a bit of a rough time. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid is not a vampire. Also, Mother Nature is a shameless flirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, another long one! Things to know about this chapter: First of all, Jörð is the name given to the personification of the Earth in Norse religion/mythology, which is what Sigrid would have grown up with. To the best of my knowledge, it's pronounced Yord, or Yorth with a short and hard "th" sound.
> 
> Second of all, in this chapter we have our first foray into F/F dynamics, so if that's not your thing then turn back now. Nothing more explicit here than flirting, but still.
> 
> All that said, I hope you enjoy!

Here’s the thing. Sigrid wasn’t a vampire. In fact, she’d never been human at all. 

If her people had understood the true depth of her connection to nature, or even what to make of her at all, they might have labeled her a huldra--a forest spirit--or some other type of landvættir. But they didn’t (and neither had Sigrid herself) and so back when her family was human, her mother had merely thought Sigrid to be an exceptionally talented witch. Though she had no luck with the ritual magic at which Kol (and even Finn) excelled, the youngest daughter of Mikael could dig her toes into the earth and grow flowers with every step she took, or call down a late summer thunderstorm to help the crops grow. Sigrid could hear whispers and warnings whenever the wind blew, and could easily start a fire without flint. All without even the hint of an incantation. She was so deeply connected to the earth, even back then, that Esther had thought her to be a witch blessed by the power of nature itself. 

She’d been half right. 

When she’d sought to make her family immortal, Esther had no way of knowing that those of them who practised magic would lose that tether to the earth (a fact that had sent Kol on many a murderous spiral over the years). Even if she  _ had  _ known, she simply would have mourned the loss of Sigrid’s gift, and sought to protect her anyway. Either way, she could never have predicted the effect her immortality spell would have on her youngest daughter.

While her siblings and father woke as the first vampires, stronger and faster and  _ thirstier _ , Sigrid didn’t wake at all. Her wounds healed and her heart began to beat again--so quietly that even her family’s newly enhanced ears were hard pressed to hear--but her eyes didn’t open and she remained trapped in a magical coma as her body fought the transformation. Ultimately, she was unable to reject it completely. When she finally awoke days later to an explosion of putrid magic as Esther cursed her brother, she did so with a sensitivity to silver and iron, magical blood that could rejuvenate her siblings with a single sip (but that nearly sent them out of control whenever she scraped her knee), a greater and more uncontrollable connection to the elements than ever before, and a newfound inability to die. 

Before her botched transformation, Sigrid had been as close to a spirit of nature as a being born from two humans could be (though she hadn’t known that at the time). After it, she was something entirely unique.

Normally, Sigrid was grateful for this fact. It meant that her enemies never quite knew what to make of her, or what she was capable of, and also that she got to enjoy a number of privileges her vampires siblings did not. Such advantages included being able to go anywhere she wanted, anytime, no invitation necessary, not to mention the added bonus of not having to drink blood. Eugh. 

The flipside of being one of a kind, however, was that Sigrid also didn’t always know what she was capable of, or how things would affect her--even after a thousand years. She had to learn as she went, after all, and so did her siblings. For example, they only discovered that Sigrid didn’t heal nearly as quickly as a vampire when Rebekah lost control of her hunger in their fourth week desperately fleeing Mikael following their transformation. She and Sigrid had been left at their makeshift camp to keep the fire going while their brothers scouted the area or hunted. Sigrid had accidentally sliced her hand on a sharp rock, releasing the potent scent of her blood into the air, and Rebekah had just snapped. From Sigrid’s perspective it was over in an instant. She barely had time to cry out in shock before her sister had ripped her throat open in her haste to drink. Sigrid woke two or three hours later (feeling as if no time had passed at all) to find her family inconsolable, having feared her to be well and truly dead. Bekah had wept with grief and guilt for days, even after Sigrid assured her she was perfectly alright. 

Over the years, accidents and attacks alike refined their understanding of Sigrid’s healing factor. Unsurprisingly, the smaller the wound, the quicker it healed. Bruises and small cuts were gone within the hour, but a broken bone might take a day to fully repair itself. When she died it took at least an hour for her to revive, with four hours being the longest she’d ever taken (after being completely drained of blood). 

The exception, of course, was when she was daggered. While her siblings were harmed by the magic in the daggers and the white oak ash they were dipped in, the only part of the dagger that hurt Sigrid was the metal it was made of. Silver-- _ pure _ silver--was more harmful to her than any other substance, and deaths caused by silver were the most painful ones she’d ever experienced. A normal silver weapon, however, could still only kill her for so long. Eventually, she would wake up, grit her teeth, and move on. But the magic in the white oak daggers was enough to keep Sigrid subdued, to keep her from reviving, from moving to help herself, from so much as opening her eyes.

But it wasn’t enough to keep her unconscious. Not entirely.

When Niklaus daggered her in Chicago (as he had many times before), Sigrid did not experience it the way her siblings did. She did not merely feel the initial sting of the dagger as it pierced her, and then nothing until it was removed. No, she felt it cleave through her body, spreading fiery pain throughout her system until she succumbed to a cool and blissful death. And then, about three hours later, her heart began beating again. Faintly. Slowly. Far too quietly to be heard unless you were listening for it, and why would you be? Sigrid was in a coffin after all, with a dagger in her beating heart. And with every beat, the pain began anew as her muscles expanded and contracted around the toxic metal in her chest. 

Another hour after that, enough consciousness returned to Sigrid for her to feel the pain she was in, but not enough for her to do anything about it. She simply floated in and out of awareness, as if she were on the edge of sleep, with each heartbeat sending a fresh stab of burning agony throughout her body. Eventually she became so used to the pain that it dulled to a throb, then to a tingling numbness--pins and needles in her extremities. But the ache in her chest continued as her heart beat around the silver dagger, pumping waves of fire through her body as it did blood through her veins. 

Gradually, she became aware of sensations outside of her own misery. The silk pillow under her head, the insistent press of the casket around her. The passage of time. And the voices of people just beyond her reach in the waking world, snatches of conversations she could not contribute to as she faded in and out of consciousness. 

Rebekah’s voice.  _ “Go to hell, Nik!. . . hoping it would hurt. . .”  _ Through the haze of pain, Sigrid was aware enough to feel a dim thrill at hearing her sister’s voice for the first time in decades. __

Niklaus’s followed,  _ “. . . let that go. Just this once. . .” _

_ “What. . . do to Sigrid? . . . blood is fresh. . .”  _

_ “. . . wanted to wake. . . can’t have that. . .” _

_ “. . . our sister! And you wonder why I. . . don’t deserve her. . .” _

Sigrid followed the general flow of conversation for a little while, missing large swaths of it every now and then as time seemed to jump forward at random, like a record skipping. When Stefan’s voice joined in the mix, however, she tuned them out. She had no desire to listen in on Rebekah and Stefan’s emotional reunion. The dagger was torture enough. 

Though Sigrid had never confessed to her family the effect the daggers had on her (for reasons she tried not to dwell on), they did know that the knives hurt her greatly going in, and left her weak and shaken upon their removal. The longest Nik had ever kept her daggered was two years, and she had emerged from the experience clinging to her sanity by the skin of her teeth. It had taken her weeks to recover. He had never left the weapon in for that long again. 

Now, trapped in a hell of her brother’s making, Sigrid could only hope that Nik’s anger in the face of her plotting with Elijah wouldn’t push him to leave her to her torment for too long. She wasn’t sure how much of this she could take. 

Normally, Sigrid was grateful that she wasn’t a vampire. Moments like this, however. . . well, they made her reconsider. 

With the sounds of the outside world floating in and out of her ears and burning pain still coursing throughout her body, Sigrid drifted.

* * *

Sigrid’s fingers twitched. That was her first clue that something was afoot. Second was the lack of fiery agony in her chest. While her limbs still ached with remembered pain, the insistent and immediate burn of the silver dagger in her heart was distinctly absent. 

Vaguely, she became aware of sunlight piercing her eyelids, shining orange through the thin layer of skin. Her eyes fluttered open, only to be met by the sight of an endless blue sky stretching out above her. She blinked, and a familiar face entered her field of vision, leaning over her upper body and shielding her face from the glare of the sun. “Ah,” Sigrid said intelligently. “Hello.”

Her companion smiled indulgently. “Hello, darling,” she greeted.

Despite herself, Sigrid blushed lightly. Norns, that was so much more embarrassing when someone else was saying it to  _ you _ . Ignoring her soreness, Sigrid log rolled to the side, away from her friend. It was only when she dropped a few inches to the ground that she realized her head and neck had been in the woman’s lap. She cleared her throat awkwardly, sitting up and turning to face her companion. Absently, Sigrid took in the familiar field around them. It was dominated by long, bright green grass, and wildflowers. She could hear birds chirping and a creek bubbling in the distance. Sigrid had been here many times before, though the meadow existed only in her imagination. She turned back to the woman in front of her. “ Jörð,” she acknowledged. “How many times have I asked you not to enter my mind without permission?”

Jörð grinned. “Well, given the circumstances, I didn’t think you’d mind. Being here with me is much nicer than being stuck in that stuffy old coffin, isn’t it?”

Sigrid swung her legs around to sit criss-cross-applesauce, heels digging furrows into the dirt as they went. Despite being a metaphysical construct, the earth and grass felt very real. Sigrid dropped her chin into her palm, raising an eyebrow. “And I’m to believe that Mother Nature doesn’t have anything better to do than entertain little old me?”

Said being reached out to take Sigrid’s hand. Jörð’s skin was the color of rich clay or sweet black tea--an enchanting, glowing reddish brown. Her fingers were long, her palms wide, and her hands physically dwarfed Sigrid’s, which were pale and delicate. As always, Mother Earth gazed at Sigrid with an immense affection that often made her feel a bit overwhelmed. “I’ve never claimed to be anyone’s mother,” Jörð disputed carelessly, smirking. “And nothing is more important than you, my love,” she continued, flirting shamelessly.

“Hah!” Sigrid laughed, ignoring the way her cheeks pinked slightly. “Not still on about that, are you?”

“Of course,” Jörð insisted smoothly as she turned Sigrid’s hand over to examine her palm. “As I will be until you accept my advances.”

Sigrid hummed, watching Jörð trace her love line. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘no means no?’”

Jörð’s fingers drifted up Sigrid’s hand to cradle her wrist, thumb sweeping gently over her pulse point, back and forth. Sigrid fought to tamp down yet another blush. Norns, Jörð was the only person who’d ever succeeded in making her feel like this. “Certainly,” Jörð said agreeably. “However, the phrase might hold more sway over me if you hadn’t already confessed that in our case, what ‘no’  _ really _ means is ‘not yet.’” She looked up at Sigrid through her thick lashes, spring green eyes glittering alluringly. “I assure you, I will wait as long as I must. I am. . . incredibly patient.”

Sigrid’s gut twisted in combination of guilt and helpless delight, as it always did when Jörð brought up this aspect of their relationship. While Sigrid had had her fair share of sexual partners over the years (though not any romantic ones, let alone emotional ones), Jörð had remained true in her assertion that there was no one else for her but Sigrid. She hadn’t wavered once in all the thousand years that they had known each other. Jörð firmly believed that the two of them were simply. . . meant to be. Soulmates, of a sort. Given the innate connection to the threads of time and space that Jörð possessed as Nature itself (as well as the undeniable, nearly magnetic tether that Sigrid herself could feel between them), Sigrid was inclined to believe her.

Therein laid part of the problem. Sigrid had never been one to lie back and let fate have its way with her. She fought tooth and nail for the things she wanted, and crushed the things she didn’t beneath her heel. She was a Mikaelson, after all. Given that, the idea of a destined match, while no doubt romantic to some, seemed rather restrictive to Sigrid, and she had often chafed under the weight of Jörð’s surety that they would one day be together. They’d argued about it more than once--far from civilization, naturally, since their fights had a tendency to get. . . explosive.

Still, despite her discomfort, Sigrid could hardly deny her affection for Jörð. Nor would she wish to. She loved and valued Jörð as a friend and confidant, and she would admit that freely. Less freely. . . Jörð was quite frankly the most beautiful woman Sigrid had ever met. Her tawny skin was complimented perfectly by the waves of burnished golden brown hair that cascaded down her back like freshly cut wheat, and her eyes were always shining like the sun, even as they shifted from brown to green to blue to back again. And she was tall, taller than any man Sigrid had ever met, and statuesque, to boot. She towered over Sigrid, large and strong enough to envelop her completely with her long arms and wide hips and thick thighs, all of which were. . . very distracting. As Kol had always teased, Sigrid was nothing if not an “utterly hopeless sapphist.” 

But all her physical beauty paled in comparison to the hold Jörð’s aura had over Sigrid. Her presence was nearly unfathomable. Immense and deep and warm. Comforting, but absolutely terrifying. Undoubtedly as dangerous as a raging fire or the storming sky, yet as soft as a bed of moss, or the caress of a gentle breeze. Whenever Sigrid felt love for nature, for the ocean or the trees or the earth. . . that was Jörð, in a way. And whenever they were together, Sigrid could feel the enormity of her, of Nature herself, pulling them toward one another like a kind of gravity. She yearned for Jörð in a way she never had for anyone else.

Which brought her right back around to the existential dread surrounding the supposed inevitability of their coupling. 

Yet Sigrid’s uneasy musings on the nature of fate were not actually her primary reason for rejecting Jörð’s advances time and time again. As if sensing the direction her thoughts had taken (or perhaps  _ actually knowing _ the direction her thoughts had taken, the snooper), Jörð smiled reassuringly.  “Sunflower, I have always understood your desire to secure some measure of stability for your family before settling into a relationship yourself,” she told Sigrid.

Yes, as always it was Sigrid’s concern for her siblings that held her back. She had explained her reasoning to  Jörð many times, but as usual, she felt the need to do so again when faced with the sight of Jörð’s unwavering loyalty to her. Sigrid sighed. “I just can’t, in good conscience, devote myself to you in any way when my family is still my first and only priority. And, honestly,” Sigrid said, firming up her voice, “they’ll always be my  _ first _ priority. I’m just. . . holding out hope, I suppose, that one day they won’t have to be my only one.” She forced herself to meet Jörð’s eyes, and her heart fluttered at the intensity in them. “But for now, and for the foreseeable future, they need my help if they’re ever going to be happy. God only knows they won’t get there by themselves.”

Jörð examined her with cool, fathomless eyes, still absently holding Sigrid’s hand. “Even when they hurt you so,” she murmured, obviously referencing Sigrid’s daggered state, “you still hold onto them so tightly.”

Sigrid rolled her own eyes, a boring brown in comparison to Jörð’s ever-changing irises, but a brown she shared with Kol and Elijah. If nothing else, she loved her eyes for that. “Yes,” she said, pulling her arm out of Jörð’s grasp. She refused to miss the warmth of her touch. “If you don’t understand that by now, then I don’t know what to tell you, other than that you might be better off finding someone else to pine after.” If there was one thing she didn’t love about Jörð it was her utter incomprehension of almost all of Sigrid’s choices. Far from the maternal and caring disposition most would expect from Mother Nature, Jörð was actually fairly antisocial. Sigrid was. . . kind of the only person she talked to regularly, and as a result she wasn’t exactly well-adjusted. Oh, well. Not like Sigrid wasn’t used to that.

There was a moment in which Jörð said nothing at all, seemingly shocked into silence, and Sigrid almost regretted her cutting words. But then Jörð burst out laughing, the sound ringing out through the mentally-constructed meadow, as beautiful as the bird song it interrupted. “Well, you are as brutally honest as ever, sunflower,” she chuckled, a teasing lilt to her voice. “One of your many disarming talents,” Jörð complimented cheerfully. “No need to worry. I may not understand the bonds of family, but I am quite familiar with the nature of unconditional love.” She looked meaningfully at Sigrid, who flushed and looked away. God dammit, that was like the fifth time she’d blushed in the course of one conversation! “I’d never dream of coming between you and your siblings,” Jörð said, still smirking somewhat. But then her smile softened into something more sincere, and she reached out to cup Sigrid’s face between her palms. Too surprised to even consider how she felt about that, Sigrid merely sat there, eyes wide, as Mother Nature stroked her cheeks. “But make no mistake, my love,” Jörð began, her tone somehow unreadable in its surety. “There will never be anyone else but you.  You have a power over nature, a power over  _ me _ that no other has ever possessed, or ever will. An  _ understanding _ of me, more than any creature or witch or spirit has. You  _ know  _ me. How could I love another, when you are here?”

Oh Norns. Sigrid’s throat felt tight. She--no. No, not--she couldn’t do this right now. Shakily, Sigrid reached up to grasp  Jörð’s hands and pull them away from her face, keeping her eyes locked on her own lap as she did so. She pressed her lips together tightly and shook her head. This time, the lull in the conversation felt heavier.

Eventually,  Jörð spoke again, voice slightly rough.  “You know, darling, there was a time when you were more amenable to partnership,” she pointed out quietly. “When you were quite receptive to my overtures, in fact. A hundred years ago, when your family lived in New Orleans, I must confess I hoped you might finally. . .”  Jörð trailed off, sounding so wistful that Sigrid’s heart ached. She remembered that time too, after all. Back then, she’d seen  Jörð nearly every night, butterflies twisting in her stomach alongside hope that maybe,  _ finally _ , her family could be whole. That Nik could feel safe, that Kol could immerse himself in magic once more and settle down. That Bekah could find love, and Elijah could find someone to look after him as much as he looked after everyone else. That Sigrid could finally have something good for herself. 

What a joke.

“Yeah,” Sigrid said lowly after a moment. “I hoped so too. We, uh, we found our happiness in New Orleans.” Already too emotional for comfort, Sigrid struggled to speak. She cleared her throat roughly. “But that fell apart, just like everything else. And looking back. . .” She thought about Elijah distancing himself from Marcellus to save Niklaus’ pride, about Marcellus choosing vampirism over Rebekah, about Nik daggering Kol and having Elijah’s lover killed. Sigrid sighed, forlorn, and swallowed her bitterness. “Well, let’s just say things weren’t as great as I thought they were then. The cracks were showing long before Father came to town.” 

Sigrid pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, fingers flexing as she fought not to clench them into fists. “Honestly, Jörð,” she admitted quietly, “sometimes I don’t know why you bother with me. I understand--” Sigrid plowed forward when it looked as if her companion would interject, “--that we have some sort of mystical connection. Trust me, I can feel it, and you know it freaks me out sometimes.” She rubbed her chest where she could feel Jörð’s energy humming alongside hers in perfect harmony. It was a disconcerting thing, to know you were so perfectly matched with another being that your souls resonated with one another. But Sigrid couldn’t deny that the pleasant feelings that came with being around Jörð more than made up for her discomfort. “But waiting around for me the way you do, with no end in sight. . . Look, my family is a mess. Who knows how long it will take to fix things? It doesn’t feel right, asking you to keep carrying this torch for me when I might never be able to say yes.” Sigrid would always feel a bit guilty about how long Jörð had waited for her, as if she were taking advantage of the fact that--as far as she knew, anyway--she was Jörð’s only friend, let alone her only (quasi) partner. While Sigrid had her siblings and had enjoyed a fair number of friendships over the years, Jörð had no one but Sigrid, so of _course_ Jörð would never leave her. Perhaps it was odd to worry that she was somehow manipulating a primordial entity, but despite her confusion about the _depth_ of her feelings for Jörð, Sigrid definitely _did have_ feelings for her, and it was practically hard-wired into her DNA to worry about the people she loved.

But Jörð, it seemed, was having none of Sigrid’s remorseful moping today. “First of all,” Jörð scolded as she scooted over to sit at Sigrid’s right, “you will always be  _ able _ to say yes. While your devotion to your family is admirable, and I certainly respect your dedication to securing happiness for them, it has always been  _ your _ decision whether to accept or reject my flirtations. I love you, darling, but don’t place blame for this situation on any of  _ their _ shoulders. I don’t believe any of them have ever asked you to refrain from personal relationships on their behalf? You chose to do so on your own.” Sigrid ears reddened for a much less fun and sexy reason this time. Norns, she felt like a schoolgirl. Was this how her siblings felt when she lectured them about  _ their _ emotional immaturity? Well, they must never learn of  _ this _ incident, obviously. When it became clear Jörð was waiting for some kind of response, Sigrid nodded hastily. Anything to move this conversation along. “Second of all, I ‘carry this torch’ completely of my own volition, and I will do so until the end of time itself or until you and I come together as partners,” Jörð finished primly, tossing her buckwheat hair over her shoulder and giving Sigrid a winning smile.

Despite her embarrassment, Sigrid snorted. “Yeah, no pressure,” she said, leaning sideways to bump her shoulder with Jörð’s good-naturedly. Still, Jörð had eased some of her worries, as she often managed to do. 

“Now that that’s sorted,” Jörð said, rising gracefully to her feet--bare, like Sigrid’s. “I’m afraid we have much more dire matters to discuss than our courtship, sunflower.”

Sigrid’s heart sank, but she accepted the hand Jörð offered her and hauled herself up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, necessarily,” Jörð corrected. “Just important.” She canted out an elbow for Sigrid to tuck her hand into. Mother Earth led the way out of the clearing and into the forest at its edge, stepping lightly and scarcely disturbing the grass as she went. As they left the safety of the meadow, Sigrid could feel small pieces of sensation gradually returning to her. The sting of the dagger in her chest, the sound of Niklaus’ voice. A jolting and rumbling at her back, which Sigrid took to mean that her body--still trapped in her coffin--was now being carted around in that moving van which had been Elijah’s home all summer. Yet she could still see and hear the woods around her, feel the pine needles and leaves crunch beneath her feet. And Jörð’s presence, of course, could never be forgotten or ignored. 

Jörð pulled Sigrid to a stop at a small, babbling brook, just wide enough for Sigrid not to be able to step over it easily. They sat side by side on a large rock at the creek's edge, and dipped their toes into the cool water. Tiny fish nibbled at Sigrid’s heels, and she found it very difficult to remember that none of her surroundings were real, even with the waking world slowly encroaching on the peace and quiet. “We are on the precipice,” Jörð said eventually, eyeing Sigrid’s feet fondly as she swished them back and forth in the stream, “of a period of great change, heralded by your brother’s transformation into a hybrid.” She paused, and nudged Sigrid. “Please convey my congratulations on that matter to him, by the way.”

“Of course,” Sigrid agreed, smiling slightly. Ha! Take that Mother, and every witch out there who’d ever accused Nik of being unnatural! Hybrids had a seal of approval from Mother Earth herself. 

“As you know, there is always some measure of flexibility when predicting the course of the future,” Jörð said, grinning a little helplessly, as though she could hear Sigrid’s thoughts. Maybe she could. They  _ were _ in Sigrid’s head, after all. “But in this case, no matter what happens, the actions of you and your family over the next decade or so will irrevocably shape the world as a whole.”

Sigrid groaned, “Oh, that doesn’t sound very peaceful,” she complained, burying her face in her hands. 

“There, there, sunflower,” Jörð teased, rubbing Sigrid’s back. “You wouldn’t know what to do with peaceful, anyway.”

“No,” Sigrid acknowledged, sighing. “But a girl can dream.” Well, no time to pout. She sat up and turned 90 degrees to face Jörð head on, tucking one leg up beneath her but allowing the other to remain dangling. “So, what are we dealing with, here?”

Jörð sobered abruptly. “Well, I hate to be the one to tell you, darling, but your father has been awakened from his dessicated state.”

Sigrid’s vision swam, and she swayed with sudden dizziness, leaning forward to place her palms against the stone beneath her and steady herself. Her hands curled into fists. “What the hell,” Sigrid demanded flatly.

“Your brother’s enemies are as creative and vicious as ever,” Jörð explained, “and are currently being aided by an old, particularly knowledgeable and cunning foe.”

Sigrid’s face contorted in rage and understanding. “Katerina,” she hissed. The sky above them darkened, thunder rumbling distantly.

“Indeed,” Jörð affirmed, reaching out to grasp Sigrid’s fists and straighten her fingers once more. “Save that fury for the waking world, my love,” she urged. “It does you no good here . . . though you are exceptionally beautiful when you’re angry.”

Sigrid took a deep breath. “Fine,” she agreed shortly. “So, Mikael is free and no doubt plotting alongside Nik’s enemies.”

“Yes,” Jörð said solemnly. “And this is merely the first fork in a very long and winding road, so to speak. In this encounter, either your father or your brother  _ will _ die. I’m sure I need not tell you why it must not be Niklaus who falls.”

Sigrid shot her a dirty look. “I assume  _ you’re _ referring to the issue of the sireline, not to the fact that I would be utterly heartbroken if he died.”

“Well. . . yes,” Jörð admitted awkwardly, clearly sensing that she had stepped on a landmine of sorts. She cleared her throat, and pressed on. “Of course your happiness is important to me. But your siblings hold key positions in maintaining the balance of nature. Without them, things would fall into chaos.”

Sigrid exhaled sharply through her nose. “Alright, carry on then,” she said tightly.

Jörð shook her head. “I have said enough for now. It’s not my place to shape the world with you as my instrument,” she said softly. “I will warn you of things to come when I can, but you must trust your own judgement on the whole, I’m afraid.” Sigrid’s sour face must have been a sight indeed, because Jörð laughed heartily at the look of it. “Do not fear, my love,” she chuckled, raising a hand to smooth Sigrid’s hair back and stroke her temple. “I have the utmost faith in you.”

Sigrid couldn’t even pretend not to find that reassuring. 

“Now,” Jörð concluded, pulling away, “you best get going, sunflower. You’re going to wake up soon.” She ushered Sigrid to her feet and over the creek. On this side of the brook, the forest felt somehow less real, and even more sounds from the outside world penetrated Sigrid’s mind. “You know the drill,” Jörð continued. “Through the forest and out the other side, and you’ll find yourself back inside your body.”

Sigrid nodded. The sight of Jörð on the other side of the stream was somehow melancholy. 

“Don’t be sad, sunflower,” Mother Nature said, smiling. “We’ll see each other sooner than you might think.”

“Right,” Sigrid said somewhat dryly. She wasn’t in the habit of reinforcing Jörð’s cryptic nonsense, so without a word of goodbye, Sigrid turned and walked off deeper into the woods, and when she glanced back over her shoulder, Jörð was gone.

The sound of a car’s engine and Niklaus’ angry voice got louder with every step she took. Birdsong was replaced by shouting and honking horns, and the air grew humid and still. Stifling, nearly. Light from the sun rapidly dimmed until Sigrid was walking through pitch black darkness, dodging trees made of the same polished wood as her casket and aiming for the thinnest, faintest light in the distance. As she approached the treeline, the pain in Sigrid’s chest grew more and more pronounced. From a sting, to an ache, to a throb, to a familiar, full on burn. She stumbled as the fiery agony of silver suddenly pulsed through her limbs once more, as the very beating of her heart sent waves of stabbing pain throughout her body. Just before the edge of the forest, Sigrid collapsed to the ground, which suddenly seemed to be a satin pillow. Gritting her teeth, she slowly pulled herself across the soft surface, arms scrabbling, feet struggling to find purchase, until bit by bit she dragged her body past the treeline.

Her head. 

Her shoulders. 

Her waist. 

Her knees.

Her toes--

**. . .**

And Sigrid’s lungs suddenly filled with air as she gasped her way back to life, Niklaus looming over her, having just removed the dagger from her chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid's family can't seem to stop hurting one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now back to our regularly-scheduled chapter length, though we'll see how long that lasts. This chapter contains more hurt, and only a little bit of comfort--and it isn't for Sigrid. Will she ever allow herself to be comforted? Your guess is as good as mine.
> 
> I also wanted to thank everyone for all their lovely comments. It really means a lot to me that you guys like this story! Keep 'em coming, and please enjoy the chapter!

Sigrid sputtered and gasped for breath, choking on air and blood and spit as she inhaled desperately, limbs jerking. She slammed her knee into the side of the casket as she twisted, fingers twitching violently as she curled them around the rim of the coffin. 

“Easy, easy, sister,” Nik soothed, deftly tucking the dagger away and leaning down to gently grasp Sigrid’s shoulders and calm her panicked flailing. The pain in her chest was fading fast as the wound from the dagger began to close. As always when daggered, she had actually healed internally  _ around _ the silver while she was subdued by its magic, so it was only the puncture itself that needed time to heal over. Still, her chest ached something fierce, and Sigrid could hardly help the hand that she brought up to grasp at her sternum. Niklaus noticed. “Here, love, let’s fix that up,” he said quietly, curling an arm beneath her back and lifting her torso to prop her upright against his own chest. Sigrid moaned in misery, still breathing heavily. “I know, I know,” Nik murmured, biting his wrist and pressing it to her lips. She took only one strong pull of his blood before pushing his arm away, feeling the hole in her chest close fully. 

Sigrid continued to suck in huge gulps of air, leaning faintly against her brother as she gasped. “You. Bloody.  _ Wanker _ ,” she panted, struggling to remain sitting up of her own power. Being daggered always left her startlingly, uncomfortably weak. She was utterly reliant upon outside help for at least a few hours after waking up, sometimes as much as days or weeks, depending on how long she’d been in the coffin. Which reminded her. . . “How long?” she groaned, joltingly lifting a hand to her throbbing head.

Niklaus hesitated slightly. “About two weeks,” he admitted. 

Sigrid’s brain stalled. “Two weeks,” she said blankly. What. . . the hell? Anger suddenly rejuvenated her enough for Sigrid to twist her torso around and reach up to yank her brother’s hair harshly, knotting her fingers into his curls. “It’s only been  _ two bloody weeks _ ?! What is the matter with you?!”

“Ow, ow,  _ ow _ !” Nik hissed, still supporting her with one hand even as the other attempted to extract her hand from his hair. “Suffice it to say I’m already reconsidering my decision,” he huffed irritably. “I could always put it back in, if you’d like?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Sigrid snapped. Honestly, most of her was relieved that she’d been daggered for such a short period of time. It meant a quicker recovery, not to mention she likely hadn’t missed  _ too  _ much. But still, it was infuriating that he seemed to take daggering her so lightly. “As if I needed any more proof that you daggering me was just your version of throwing a temper tantrum,” Sigrid scolded. “You stuck a literal  _ knife _ in my heart, but not even half a month later you realize ‘oops, I need her help,’ and you pull it right back out again as if you’ve just made a simple mistake and not, oh I don’t know,  _ actually killed me _ !” She slumped, energy leaving as quickly as it came. Ugh, her limbs felt like lead. Sigrid leaned against Nik again, pressing her forehead to his collarbone. “I should strangle you,” she grumbled half-heartedly, too tired to maintain her anger, though the hurt remained.

Nik relaxed, sensing the end of that particular argument. For now, anyway. “I know, I know,” he smirked, flashing his hybrid eyes. “I’m a beast.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes. “Terrifying,” she deadpanned. “Now get me out of here. We’ve got more important things to worry about.”

Niklaus frowned, but nonetheless reached into the casket to pick her up fully, cradling her to his chest. “I take it you know about Mikael, then?” he asked, carrying her past her siblings’ coffins and out the open back door of the van. “I won’t bother asking how.”

“Of course. I know everything, Niklaus,” Sigrid hyperbolized dryly. While her siblings knew she sometimes conversed with the being that was Mother Nature, she had never gone into detail about her personal relationship with Jörð. It was. . . nice to have something just for herself, when her life so frequently revolved around taking care of her family. 

Sigrid sighed in relief as they stepped out of the van and into the sunlight. She tipped her head back and absorbed the sun’s rays like a plant, allowing its energy to fill her and ease her weariness. Soon, however, the noise in the area drew her attention, and she squinted in confusion when she finally noticed the veritable caravan of black SUVs surrounding them. The vehicles were all pulled over on the side of a dusty one lane road, which was lined with thick forest on either side. There were at least three dozen people milling around, packing bags and loading them into the cars. They were all fairly young and healthy looking, though their auras were. . . odd. Not unpleasant, but only vaguely familiar. They certainly weren’t human, but they weren’t vampires or werewolves either, let alone witches. In fact, they felt a little bit like. . . Sigrid glanced up at Nik, then back to strangers. “Ah,” she exhaled. “Congratulations, brother,” Sigrid said sincerely. Belatedly, she remembered Jörð’s request for Sigrid to congratulate Nik on her behalf, and snorted. “I see you figured it out. They’re much better than poor Ray.”

Nik grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Naturally,” he gloated. “Let’s get you settled somewhere to recharge, sister,” Niklaus said, striding towards the woods, “and I’ll tell you what you’ve missed. It’s been an eventful fortnight.” 

An hour later, Sigrid found herself lying down at the edge of a clearing in the forest, feet propped up against the trunk of a thick maple tree and upper body sprawled in a patch of late summer wildflowers, letting herself recuperate and regain the energy that being daggered had cost her. Nik, leaning against a nearby spruce with his arms crossed, had finished his story within half an hour, but Sigrid’s mind was still reeling from it. She definitely stood corrected on the “likely hadn’t missed too much” front.

“So the doppelganger is alive,” Sigrid said eventually.

“Yes,” Nik confirmed.

“And Stefan knew.”

“Yes.” 

“And you need her blood to make hybrids, because Mother was a horrid bitch.”

“That’s correct, yes.”

“And Rebekah is awake and still in Mystic Falls.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Because one of the Salvatores threatened you with Mikael so you  _ left, _ ” Sigrid grit out, irritation rising again. “Leaving Rebekah there  _ all by herself _ .”

“. . . Yes. Though I really thi--”

“And you came here to Portland to create more hybrids.”

“. . . That’s right.”

“And now you’ve received word from the Salvatores-- _ corroborated by our sister _ \--that Mikael did indeed come to town, and has since been daggered by none other than the doppelganger herself.”

“Yes.”

“ _ Even though _ at least one Salvatore brother  _ explicitly told you _ that he’s the one who arranged for Mikael to wake and come to Mystic Falls,  _ and  _ they’ve admitted to wanting you dead, so there’s really no reason why we should believe a word that comes out of their bloody mouths.”

“Except,” Niklaus pointed out, “that Rebekah confirmed it, and Stefan Salvatore is compelled to do everything I say, including tell me the truth.”

“Compulsions can be worked around and you know it, Nik,” Sigrid snapped, before releasing a gusty sigh. The breeze ruffled her hair comfortingly, and she imagined that it was Jörð’s hand. “So you woke me up,” Sigrid concluded.

Niklaus ran a hand through his hair, frustrated and--Sigrid could tell--a little bit afraid. “I know your connection with Father isn’t very strong, but I was hoping you could confirm or deny the Salvatores’ story somehow.” He allowed Sigrid to catch his eye, looking more vulnerable than most people had the privilege of seeing him. “I want to believe Rebekah,” he admitted. “I want to trust her. But things aren’t adding up.” Plaintively, Nik looked to her with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes.

Despite the physical and emotional hurt he had so recently dealt her--hurt she could still feel in her very soul--Sigrid felt herself crumble. Inwardly, she cursed her own weakness. She had always bent too easily to her siblings, forgiven them and helped them when perhaps they didn’t deserve it. But it was so,  _ so _ difficult for her to begrudge them anything when they looked to her earnestly and asked for her help. How could she deny them? Sigrid could forgive and forget them hurting her. It was when they hurt  _ each other _ that she really got upset.

She would help Nik. Of course she would, she could do nothing less. But something had to change. First and foremost, however. . . “Well, Father is definitely awake,” Sigrid said after momentarily examining the weak thread that connected her to Mikael. 

Niklaus cursed, slamming his palm against a tree and causing it to shake violently, dropping leaves to the ground. Sigrid could feel it groaning even from her position several feet away. “Hey, hey, hey!” she chastised, clambering to her feet with an uncharacteristic lack of grace. Her body still felt sort of heavy and sore, but she forced herself over to the poor, abused pine tree to heal the microfractures she could now sense in its trunk, slumping a little as the energy left her. “Go take it out on something man made!”

Her brother ground his teeth together. “What is Rebekah playing at?” he snarled.

Sigrid pursed her lips, anxiety pooling in her stomach. She was asking that question herself. “Well,” she said, resolving not to judge Rebekah until she knew just what was going on, “either Rebekah was tricked somehow, or. . . or she lied.” Sigrid didn’t want to think about why her sister might’ve stooped so low as to work with Nik’s enemies, let alone  _ Mikael _ , but she couldn’t afford to dismiss the possibility. “Nothing for it, I suppose,” Sigrid hummed, leaning back against the tree she had just healed and facing her brother. “We’ll just have to call her and ask.” When Niklaus looked mutinous, she rolled her eyes and elaborated. “We won’t be completely honest, obviously, in case she  _ is _ lying to us. We’ll tell her the good news softened you enough to wake me up, and that I want to hear it from her.” Sigrid sighed. “Look, Nik, I don’t want to believe she’s done this either, and I certainly won’t believe  _ anything _ until I’ve spoken to Rebekah myself. So let’s just. . . hold out judgment until then, yeah?” 

Niklaus drew in a deep breath, quickly covering himself in a thin veneer of calm. He strode purposefully toward Sigrid, pulling his phone out and unlocking it. She straightened, forcing her lingering fatigue to the back of her mind. She’d need her wits about her for this conversation. 

Nik quickly dialed Rebekah’s number and put the phone on speaker. They listened as it rang twice, before it was picked up. “Nik?” Rebekah’s voice came over the line, and Sigrid closed her eyes and sucked in a quiet breath. Barring the blurred, distant pieces of conversation she’d heard while she was daggered, this was the first time Sigrid had heard her sister’s voice in nearly a century. It was as familiar and beautiful as ever. Despite the circumstances, she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “What’s wrong? Are you going to be delayed in getting home?”

Sigrid tried not to feel too suspicious at the question. While there were no nerves audible in Rebekah’s voice, that was a bit of an odd thing to ask. She glanced at Niklaus, only to find him looking at her, an angry glint already in his eye. Sigrid shook her head sharply, and he smiled tightly, releasing a light chuckle. If Sigrid couldn’t see his face, she might have thought it was real. “Nothing’s wrong, sister dear, especially not with my travel plans. Why do you ask?”

“Well, ah,” Bekah fumbled slightly. Sigrid bit her lip. Rebekah regained her footing quickly, “Don’t laugh, Nik, but. . . Homecoming is tonight, and as much as I’d like to get out of this horrid town I’ve sort of been looking forward to it,” she finished in a rush. 

Sigrid beamed. Now,  _ that _ had sounded sincere. However, concealing a lie beneath half truths was a time-honored Mikaelson family tradition, so Rebekah wasn’t off the hook yet. Still, Sigrid could no longer contain herself. “That’s great, Bekah!” she exclaimed. “I know how much you’ve always wanted to go to a school dance!”

A pause. “Sigrid?” Rebekah asked tremulously. “Is that really you?”

Sigrid’s smile widened. “Of course it is, sister,” she said warmly. “I must say, it’s good to hear your voice.”

Rebekah released a teary laugh. “Yours as well,” she sniffed. “Oh, Sigrid, I’m so sorry.”

“For what, love?” Sigrid pressed gently. Though Rebekah was the elder sister between the two of them, she was much more emotionally delicate than Sigrid was, and the youngest Mikaelson had found herself guarding her sister’s heart many times over the years. The thought that Rebekah might have betrayed her. . . It was crushing. 

“I didn’t wake you up,” Rebekah nearly choked out. She was audibly crying now, and Sigrid’s heart ached at the sound. “In Chicago. You were right there, all of you, when I woke up. And I didn’t wake you.”

Niklaus looked away, clenching his jaw. Sigrid ignored him. His angst had no place in this particular discussion. “Rebekah, if you have to apologize for that, then so do I. Besides, if we all apologized for every time we’ve committed that offence, we’d be apologizing for the rest of our immortal lives.” Sigrid paused. “And I certainly hope you know that I don’t blame you for any of Niklaus’s actions.”

“I am right here,” Niklaus pointed out.

“Stay out of it, Nik,” Sigrid and Rebekah snapped in unison.

Niklaus retreated, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Bloody hell, woman,” he muttered. “Women, I should say.”

Sigrid smirked. But then her brother caught her eye, giving her a meaningful look, and she sobered. Not allowing her focus or her nervousness at deceiving her sister to color her voice, Sigrid probed, “So what’s this good news I’m hearing about? Nik’s in an incredible mood.” Yes, incredibly  _ bad _ perhaps. “He woke me up of his own volition and everything! Thought I should hear it from you.” There, none of that was. . .  _ technically _ a lie? Though calling it the truth would certainly be pushing it.

“Ah, yes!” Rebekah said quickly. To her credit, she only hesitated slightly, but it was still noticeable, if one knew her well enough. “Well it’s--it’s Mikael, actually. He’s been daggered.” Sigrid’s heart sank.

Affecting a shocked pause, Sigrid sucked in a harsh breath through her nose. It was a bit shocking, actually, to hear Rebekah say it. Especially when Sigrid could so clearly tell it wasn’t true. “Daggered?” Sigrid questioned, projecting blankness into her voice so that she wouldn’t have to fake emotion. Hopefully she came across as incredibly surprised, and not disbelieving. Though , maybe a  _ little _ disbelief would be appropriate. Hmm. . . “Are you sure?” she tacked on.

“I saw it with my own eyes. The latest doppelganger stabbed him right in the heart.” Rebekah confirmed. That sounded like the truth. Had the doppelganger actually daggered Father in front of her? Perhaps that was how Stefan had gotten around his compulsion.

“That’s. . . wow,” Sigrid faltered, trying to convey that idea to Niklaus through a series of strategic eyebrow wiggles. He looked thoughtful. Either he got the message, or he was considering putting her in a mental institution. “Kudos to her, I suppose. And Father is--he’s really gone?”

“Yes he. . . he really is, sister,” Bekah said.

Ah. Sigrid closed her eyes, resigned. Now  _ that _ had been a lie. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, and  _ her _ words, at least, were sincere. Feeling only semi-lucid, Sigrid allowed Niklaus to retake control of the conversation as she tilted her head back, allowing it to thunk solidly into the tree behind her as she stared upwards, through the canopy, at the sky. Dimly, she registered it when Nik hung up a few minutes later and hurled his phone across the clearing with a roar of rage. It shattered against the trunk of a red maple tree. She buried her face in her hands and took a few deep breaths. Now. . . now wasn’t the time to cry about this. “I don’t suppose you can think of any sufficiently heinous act you’ve committed that might have brought her to this?” Sigrid spoke up eventually.

Niklaus laughed without humor. “As if I can even begin to fathom what goes on in her mind.”

Sigrid hummed, a pervasive thought niggling at the back of her brain. “You don’t think this could be about what happened with Mother, do you?” she asked after a while. When Nik merely turned to look at her disbelievingly, Sigrid justified, “It just seems like she’s come up more in the past couple months than she has in the last several centuries, is all. I don’t have any proof or anything.” Her brother continued to gape at her. Sigrid frowned somewhat defensively. “It was just a thought, Nik.” There was a long pause.

“You knew?” Niklaus whispered hoarsely after a moment. “That I--that  _ I. . . _ killed Mother?”

She furrowed her brow. “I--yes? Did you. . . think that I didn’t?” His eyes were still as wide as dollar coins. “Nik, I--I came staggering out of the woods  _ moments  _ after you killed her. Of course I knew. I thought--well, I thought that you  _ knew _ that I knew. I haven’t exactly made a secret of it. I haven’t told the others, of course,” Sigrid hurried to reassure when Niklaus began to look slightly ill. “Though I must say, I don’t think anyone but Rebekah and Finn would particularly care.”

Nik swallowed heavily, slowly crossing towards her. “And you don’t. . . you don’t care?”

Sigrid’s first instinct was to be hurt that despite the fact she’d proven her love and her loyalty a million times over the years, Nik still didn’t trust her not to drop him at the first reminder of his murderous tendencies. When had she ever cared about those? But Niklaus’ lack of self-worth (usually hidden beneath a veil of narcissism; seriously, he really did need a therapist) had been literally beaten into him, and it had only been reinforced by betrayals from friends and family alike, over the years. And all of that had begun with Mikael and Esther. “Nik,” Sigrid spoke softly, pushing away from the trees and toward her brother. She reached up to cup his face briefly before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a firm hug. “I lived with Mother for 16 years,” Sigrid murmured into Niklaus’ chest, ear pressed against the steady beat of his heart. “And she was hardly an award-winning parent. I’ve lived with  _ you _ for a millennium, and while you’re not always brother-of-the-year material, I’ve never once doubted your love for me.” She squeezed him tightly. “Or my own for you.”

Niklaus said nothing, but he tucked his nose up against the top of her head and inhaled deeply, wrapping his arms around her waist in an inescapable grip, and that was good enough for Sigrid. “Now,” she said primly, leaning back to look him in the eye and wink conspiratorially. “Let’s you and I get going, brother.” Ignoring the painful and persistent thoughts of Rebekah’s actions and Nik’s lack of trust, Sigrid curled her lips up into a devilish smirk--complete with dimples--that Niklaus mirrored, seemingly out of pure instinct. “We’ve got a Homecoming dance to crash, after all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading and let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid and Niklaus lay out the groundwork of their plot as the threat of Mikael looms ever closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! So sorry for the delay everyone! I've been super busy with finals for the past couple of weeks, not helped by the fact that we're doing distance learning at the moment. I should hopefully be completely done with my semester by the end of next week, so hopefully no more big delays. I hope everyone's staying healthy and safe.

Sigrid could count on one hand the number of times she’d been as uncomfortable as she was now. Nik’s minion’s yard was absolutely packed with writhing, grimy teenage bodies. Now Sigrid had attended a party or two in her time--even the occasional Bacchic, drunken orgy in the woods--but a high school dance? Surrounded by the scent of hormones, sweat, and Axe body spray? No thank you. She honestly didn’t know what Rebekah saw in such things. The children all had their arms up in the air as well, proudly baring their stinking pits to the masses! Ugh. At least they were outside. Sigrid could only imagine what this would be like if they were all trapped together in a gymnasium. Thank the Norns Nik had thought ahead and flooded the place (though that had been more of a strategic maneuver than an olfactory one).

Sigrid cringed away from a pack of tipsy teenagers who were making a bee-line for the drink table, practically retreating into a bush, which twined its branches around her legs lovingly. She patted it absetly, watching with fascinated horror as a boy shotgunned three cans of beer at once.

Nik had made his dramatic entrance mere moments ago, taking to the stage beside the band he’d arranged (read: compelled) at the last minute. Stefan had only recently arrived--Sigrid had pegged him immediately and kept a bead on him since--and she could sense Niklaus making his way through the crowd towards the Ripper. Distantly, Sigrid felt another vampire arrive at the house. Hmm. That could either be Stefan’s brother Damon, or more likely. . . Yes, there was Katerina making her way down the stairs. She wasn’t dressed in her usual style, so Sigrid assumed she was indeed impersonating her human doppelganger Elena this evening. Smart, but also a move Sigrid had anticipated. Subtly, she sank backwards into the shadow of a large oak tree and, after checking to make sure no one was looking, lept nimbly up into its branches, allowing the thick early autumn leaves to conceal her. Katerina knew far more about Sigrid than any of the Mikaelsons’ younger enemies in this town, including the fact that Sigrid could easily tell the difference between humans and vampires. If she saw Sigrid here, she’d immediately tell her co-conspirators that the jig was up, and that Niklaus and Sigrid knew something was afoot.

Once she was safely hidden amongst the boughs of the tree, Sigrid pulled out her phone and texted her brother.  _ Definitely Katerina, as expected _ , she wrote. Niklaus received the message a moment later, checking his phone so quickly he appeared to only be glancing at the time before returning to his conversation with Stefan. Curious, Sigrid encouraged the wind to change direction and carry their words her way. While her senses were better than the average human’s, her hearing wasn’t nearly sensitive enough to pick up a hushed conversation in the middle of a raging party without a little assistance. Eagerly, the breeze whispered in her ear, relaying their exchange to her.

Niklaus was speaking. “. . . still walks among the living, which leads me to believe Rebekah isn't here. Where is she?” 

Sigrid frowned, reaching up to rub at her chest--both at the memory of the wound that had been there just that morning, and at the ache Rebekah’s absence caused. To have felt her presence--alive and healthy--that very day, only for her to be daggered (probably by the bloody doppelganger, since the girl apparently had such a talent for it) scant hours before they’d arrived in Mystic Falls had been heartbreaking. For all that Rebekah had betrayed them, Sigrid longed to see her, to speak candidly with her, to ask her why she had done this. And Bekah had been so excited about the dance. . . Sigrid shook her head, hard. As much as she missed her sister, in many ways it was better that Rebekah wasn’t here tonight. In this moment, though it hurt to admit it, Rebekah was not Sigrid’s ally. More than that, however, Sigrid hated the thought of any of her siblings getting drawn into the chaos this evening would bring (especially with Jörð’s warning hanging over her head), which was the only reason she hadn’t insisted upon waking her brothers to help. Fewer variables were better at this stage of the game. 

Nik knew that Rebekah was lying daggered somewhere, of course, so he must have been testing Stefan to see if  _ he _ knew anything. If he did and hadn’t told Nik about it, that could be an indication that the compulsion was no longer intact.

“I have no idea. I thought she was coming with Matt,” Stefan said, somewhat blankly. It was odd, seeing him without all the crippling moodiness and self-righteousness that had plagued him all summer. He was still angry though, Sigrid could tell. Very angry.

Niklaus considered the Ripper. “Oh, be honest now, Stefan. Where is my sister?” he asked, a hint of darkness in his voice beneath the jovial surface.

“I said I have no idea,” Stefan repeated a bit belligerently, taking a small step closer to Sigrid’s brother. Wow, he really was pissed. Well, that was one of the emotions that could surface most easily even when young vampires had their “switch” flipped. And an angry vampire who knew no fear wasn’t one Sigrid particularly wanted to deal with. It was one of the things that had always frightened her most about Mikael, actually. Stefan continued, “Now, would you like me to take you to your father?”

Nik narrowed his eyes before smirking slightly. “Well, it wouldn't be a party without the guest of honor, would it? Bring him to me,” he ordered. 

“All right,” Stefan said after a slight pause. “Perhaps there's something in it for me?” he suggested lowly. The wind strained to catch his words and carry them to Sigrid’s ear. “My freedom from your compulsion?”

“Oh, you want your freedom,” Nik said guilessly before a mocking look made its way into his eyes. “Well, once he is dead and his weapon destroyed, you'll have your freedom,” he assured, smile widening. “It'll be my pleasure to give it back to you.”

The music suddenly increased in pitch before the band brought its song to a close. Stefan nodded slightly and disappeared into the crowd between one beat and the next. Sigrid closed her eyes and focused on his presence as he moved at a slightly faster than human pace through the throngs of party-goers. . . into the house. . . through the house. . . out the front door . . . before he abruptly sped off the property. Sigrid opened her eyes and turned them to her phone once more.  _ Stefan Salvatore has left the building _ , she texted glibly, anticipation building in her gut.  _ He’s headed in the direction of where I can feel Rebekah’s body, away from the main area of town, so she’s probably at his house, assuming that’s where he’s going.  _ It was habit to text in full sentences. Sigrid had only had a cell phone for about a decade, but she’d been writing letters for centuries. 

Niklaus’ response was immediate.  _ Ah, but does he know she’s there? _

Sigrid considered this.  _ Probably not. If I were his brother, I’d be keeping him away from all the details of whatever plan they’re cooking up, just to be safe.  _

Before they could continue their back and forth, Nik’s little hybrid minion approached. “My mom would seriously freak if she saw all these people here,” the teenager said. What was his name again? Troy? Tucker? Taylor?  _ Tyler _ , that was it. Tyler Lockwood. His mother was the mayor of Mystic Falls. 

Sigrid kept half an ear on the conversation Nik was having with Tyler (oh, great, he was threatening the boy’s friends, because  _ that _ wouldn’t generate resentment or anything) but devoted most of her attention to expanding her senses out as far as she could. The dozens of hybrids attending the party down below were distracting, but Sigrid had acclimated enough to their presence on the journey to Virginia to tune them out. Bonnie the Bennet witch was present, somewhere in the lower level of the house, surrounded by crowds of drunken teenagers. Sigrid couldn’t be sure what role the witch would play tonight, but she was likely an integral part of whatever plot Damon Salvatore had cooked up. There was also at least one vampire other than Katerina currently attending the party, probably Tyler’s girlfriend Caroline. The girl’s connection to Niklaus’ sired minion had likely seen her left out of the Salvatores’ plans, but Sigrid couldn’t be sure. Hopefully Nik’s warning to Tyler would at least do  _ some _ good and see Caroline put out of commission one way or the other.

Sigrid couldn’t quite feel Stefan anymore, since her perception of the average vampire wasn’t nearly as strong as her connection to her family, and he was well out of her range. Rebekah was the same place she’d been all night, and Mikael wasn’t far from her. Probably in the same building. The idea of him being anywhere near her sister while Rebekah couldn’t defend herself made Sigrid’s skin itch, and it was only the somewhat nauseating knowledge that Bekah was temporarily on their father’s side that stopped Sigrid from rushing to get her away from him. Father had always maintained that Niklaus was the only one he truly wanted dead, after all, and that the only reason he was a threat to Sigrid or her other siblings was because they’d always refused to turn on their brother. Until now, anyways.

Sigrid shook herself free of that thought, returning her attention to her brother as Tyler near enough ran away and into his home. Idly, Sigrid followed his presence as he moved through the house, towards Caroline. After a moment, the vampire’s aura dimmed abruptly as she fell unconscious. Sigrid recognized the effects of vervain instantly.  _ Done, _ she texted, eyeing Nik as he ambled through the crowds toward Katerina.  _ Caroline is down. Hope you don’t come to regret that too much. She seems your type. _

Peering through the tree leaves, Sigrid caught it when Niklaus rolled his eyes.  _ I’ve hardly spoken to her _ , he replied a little too quickly. 

Sigrid smirked.  _ Alright, my mistake.  _ She decided to change the subject before he could get too snippy.  _ You know, you might try treating your hybrids with a bit of respect. Might inspire a bit more genuine loyalty that way. I know kindness is likely too much to ask, but still. Honey and vinegar and all that.  _ Not that he was any less likely to get snippy about  _ this _ subject, particularly. Ah well. Getting a rise out of Nik was the perfect way to distract them both from the absolutely hellish situation they’d found themselves in. Plus, it was a solid suggestion, as far as Sigrid was concerned.

_ I don’t need to treat them well to ensure their loyalty, sister _ , Nik shot back.  _ Absolute obedience. One of the lovely perks of a sire bond. _

_ First of all, you sound like a creep, _ Sigrid pointed out.  _ Second of all, need I remind you that a sire bond--like any bond-- _ can _ be broken. And if you treat your hybrids like dirt, that breakable bond will be the  _ only _ thing ensuring their loyalty. If you treat them like the comrades you claim they are, however, they’ll follow you out of genuine respect and devotion.  _ Sigrid paused.  _ Seriously, why do I still have to explain this to you after a thousand years? _

There was a long pause before Niklaus’ next response came in. He stopped at the drink table, then filled and drained a plastic solo cup of whiskey. He seemed about to toss it to the side, but Sigrid’s glare was apparently powerful enough to be felt even at a distance, and he wisely deposited it in a nearby garbage bag instead.  _ I took your advice about the wolves in Portland, _ he texted eventually.  _ Diplomacy, I mean.  _

Sigrid longed to be having this conversation in person.  _ And how did that go? _ she asked delicately, biting her lip.

_ Some of them agreed right away, once I explained they’d be able to shift at will, _ Niklaus replied. _ For others, I had to challenge the pack alpha to a fight. Wolves respect strength. _

Sigrid smiled.  _ Sounds like someone I know. _

_ Yes, well, my point is that many of the hybrids here knew exactly what they were getting themselves into. They gave me their loyalty voluntarily, so you can stop your moralistic whining now, _ Nik wrote. Sigrid could practically hear his defensive sneer even over text. She sighed somewhat fondly. As if she gave a damn about the morals of the situation. Sigrid just didn’t want this to blow up in her brother’s face.

_ Yes, and now you have to  _ maintain _ that loyalty,  _ she quipped.  _ And Tyler Lockwood happens to be the one hybrid in your entourage who could make things exceptionally difficult for us in this town if he got a bee in his bonnet over your treatment of him. Just keep that in mind, please.  _

_ Fine, _ Niklaus responded shortly, before stalking off to go threaten Katerina.

This was a crucial stage of their operation, so Sigrid kept a close eye on the conversation. Niklaus played it cool, not letting on that he knew the doppelganger in front of him was hardly human. Katerina seemed convinced by his performance. As for Katerina’s acting, well, Sigrid couldn’t speak to it. She’d not yet met Elena Gilbert, so she had little idea how accurate Katerina’s portrayal was. All Nik had said about the girl when Sigrid had asked was that she was “rather dull, but delicious,” which was, on the whole, not particularly helpful.

Still following the conversation below, Sigrid clenched her jaw tight in anger as Katerina brought up the fact that “she” (Elena) had daggered an Original once before. So, the little human had betrayed Elijah first, and now Rebekah as well. Sigrid hadn’t even seen the girl yet, and Elena had already made a horrid first impression.

Finally, Nik went for the kill, implementing the strategy that he and Sigrid had devised on the journey here to ensure that Stefan acted against his brother’s plan when the time came. “Let's get straight to the point then, shall I, love?” Niklaus said, leaning in threateningly. “People have been after me for 1000 years. And I am always one step ahead. So whatever it is you're thinking of trying, go for it, give it your best shot. You won't succeed.” Hmm, arrogant, but generally true. Nik was an excellent tactician, and whatever he didn’t account for, Sigrid or Elijah usually did. Dimly, Sigrid noticed the presence of another vampire entering the house behind her. It wasn’t one she recognized, so it was probably Damon arriving at last. A hybrid aura near him flickered and cut off suddenly, not muted in unconsciousness but absent in death. Had that been one of Nik’s loyal followers, Sigrid wondered? She grit her teeth in irritation.

“It won't be for lack of trying,” Katerina spat. Ooh, there was that Petrova fire rearing its head. Katerina was truly beautiful when she was angry. Sigrid had always admired her ruthless ambition to survive. It was such a shame that she was a traitorous hag, and that Sigrid’s brother was still a bit infatuated with her. If not for those things, Sigrid might have slept with her years ago. As it was, however, Katerina was a duplicitous bitch and Elijah remained enamoured, despite the fact that he could do much better. Still, that inner strength was attractive. If this Elena was truly as insipid as Niklaus had said, Sigrid doubted she’d respond in such a way.

Niklaus delivered the finishing blow with aplomb. “Ah you'd be smart to tell Damon to mind his manners tonight,” he said mildly, “because if I die, I've already ensured that he'll die along with me.” Nik grinned madly, and Katerina paled. Huh, maybe she cared a little for the Salvatores after all. You see something new every day. “Even in death my hybrids have their orders. So, you kill me, you're killing him too.” And with that, Nik turned and stalked away, leaving a shaken Katerina behind.

Sigrid watched as the vampire doppelganger turned and walked quickly back into the house, following Katerina’s aura as she zipped through the party, out the front door, and away in the same direction Stefan had gone when he left.  _ She’s gone to warn Stefan _ , Sigrid informed her brother. 

_ Good,  _ Nik smirked.  _ All according to plan. The promise of his freedom, should tonight go well, combined with a threat to his brother’s life should it  _ not _ , ought to be enough to secure Stefan’s assistance this evening.  _

Sigrid grinned, dimples on display.  _ Carrot  _ and  _ stick. Nicely done, brother. And they say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.  _

_ Watch it.  _

Sigrid inhaled sharply, amusement dissipating rapidly as an all too familiar presence abruptly began to move closer. Her quiet heartbeat picked up in fear. “Nik,” she breathed onto the wind, allowing it to carry her voice to her brother’s ears alone. He straightened and began subtly weaving his way through the crowds, toward her position in the oak tree. “He’s coming.”

Niklaus’s jaw twitched and he snatched a bottle of beer off the drink table as he passed it. “How soon?” he asked out the corner of his mouth. 

The wind relayed the question to Sigrid. She considered her father’s position and the speed at which he was moving. “Fifteen minutes perhaps,” she said quietly as her brother came to lean back against the trunk of the tree beneath her. “He’s not moving very quickly. There’s likely still some set up to be done here before they can put their plan in motion properly.”

Nik grunted, pegging down his beer like it was the nectar of the gods. “Calm down, love,” he said gruffly after a moment. He would have sounded perfectly calm to anyone else, but Sigrid could hear the thread of anxiety running through his voice clear as day. Nothing had ever frightened Niklaus like Mikael did. Norns, he was being so brave. “Your heart is hammering like a jackrabbit.”

Sigrid laughed humorlessly. “You can hear that, huh?” she murmured.

“Only because I’m listening for it,” Niklaus said. His words were perfectly matter of fact, but Sigrid could sense his desire to reassure her. He didn’t tell Sigrid not to worry, because that would be foolish and hypocritical. He didn’t tell Sigrid that he’d protect her, because that had always gone without saying. His reassurance was simple. He was here. He was listening. 

Norns, Sigrid loved him. 

Her jaw quivered with suppressed nerves, with the urge to sob, but she didn’t allow herself to tear up. Sigrid took a deep breath. The thought of facing Mikael was as terrifying as ever. He had haunted their family like a boogeyman in the shadows for more than a millenium. He had killed Sigrid on more than one occasion, and she had rarely had the courage to fight back. But she had never hesitated to put herself between her father and her siblings, and she wasn’t going to start now. “Listen to me, Nik,” Sigrid said, dearly wishing that she could reach down through the tree branches and stroke her brother’s hair, wrap her arms around him tightly, and kiss his eyelids as she had whenever he wept after one of Father’s beatings when they were children. “Mikael is going to die tonight. I know that for a fact, because the alternative is unacceptable.” Jörð’s warning rang in Sigrid’s ears.  _ In this encounter, either your father or your brother  _ will  _ die. _ Well, it would just have to be Mikael, then. Nik could not, and  _ would not _ die tonight. Sigrid wouldn’t allow it. She blinked harshly, banishing the traitorous tears that longed to well up in her eyes. “I won’t allow any other outcome.” Sigrid hesitated slightly, then whispered the words that ached to be said. “I love you so much Niklaus.”

He paused briefly. “And I you,” he muttered after a moment, looking somewhat constipated at the words. 

Sigrid allowed herself a single helpless, watery giggle, before steeling herself. “Good,” she said, sniffling hard, and her quiet voice was laced with iron. “Now get in the house. It’s time to commit patricide.”

Niklaus grinned up at her wildly. “Finally,” he said, emotional moment forgotten and devil-may-care attitude firmly back in place for the coming confrontation. “I’ve only been waiting for a thousand years.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading, and let me know what you think! And thank you for your patience!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid and Niklaus commit patricide. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The long-awaited confrontation with Mikael, and it's another monster chapter. Sorry for the delay! If you haven't seen already, I have started another OC/vampire-related fic (is it a condition? maybe), this time in the True Blood universe. Since that's also taking up some of my time now, I'm thinking updates for each story will be every other week or so? But don't quote me on that (even though I'm the author lol).
> 
> I also wanted to thank everyone for their kind comments/reviews! They're very encouraging to read whenever I need a bit of motivation. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

As Nik made his way into the Lockwood house at a slightly quicker than human pace, Sigrid followed him from above, leaping nimbly through the canopy of trees that lined the property and up onto the roof. Once there, she wedged herself into a sharply angled corner near the chimney where she would be obscured from the sight of anyone on the ground. The edges of hard, black shingles dug harshly into her bare feet, but Sigrid ignored the pain. Taking a deep breath, she allowed the thinnest amount of her power possible to suffuse throughout the air surrounding the house, subtly enough that Mikael would not sense it when he arrived. Sigrid directed the wind toward herself from all directions so that no one would be able to catch her scent or hear her measured breathing, but so that the breeze would carry any suspicious sound within a mile’s radius directly to her ears. 

That done--and half her senses devoted to tracking Mikael’s progress as he moved closer and closer to the party--Sigrid began to enact another key aspect of the plan she and Niklaus had concocted. Closing her eyes, she reached out with delicate threads of her energy to the handful of seed pods she had scattered across the lawn when she had first arrived. Large, dark red, and sticky, these were the seeds of the Florida strangler fig--a vine which, as its name would suggest, grew to be thick and expansive enough to completely encompass the trees it latched itself onto. Normally, it began its life at the top of a host tree before growing very,  _ very _ slowly down the trunk towards the ground. But with a little help from Sigrid, these particular specimens were going to spend their brief but spectacular lives a little differently. Feeding them her own energy directly allowed Sigrid to manipulate them into growing in ways they normally wouldn’t. Breathing deeply, Sigrid encouraged the seed pods to crack open and sprout downward, into the rich earth. Once they had burrowed under the surface, she directed them to grow outward, and quickly, her own power replacing the energy they would normally gain from the sun. Within minutes, a network of tropical vines as thick as Sigrid’s arm had developed just below the surface of the Lockwoods’ perfectly manicured lawn, ready for Sigrid to take command of them at any moment.

She exhaled slowly, examining her power reserves. That maneuver had dipped into them considerably, but it would have been far worse if she had attempted to grow the vines from scratch, especially in the heat of the moment. She was capable of it, of course, but seeds did make the job easier. Sigrid allowed the energy of the neighboring forest, the whipping wind, and the nearby river to wash over her, replenishing her. This was one of the many reasons Sigrid preferred living in places surrounded by nature; even the more difficult feats of spiritual ability were easy to recover from, with the natural energy around her overflowing as it was. Sigrid had loved New Orleans for the happiness it brought her family, but she’d had to retreat to the bayou to rest every time she’d done anything significant. 

Suddenly, a flare of magic from within the house--almost directly below Sigrid--caught her attention. Sigrid would recognize the feel of an aneurism spell anywhere. Bonnie Bennet had finally joined in the night’s events, it seemed. Sigrid encouraged the wind to carry any words from that direction straight to her ears, just in time to tune into a curious conversation.

“You weren't supposed to witchy migraine  _ me _ !” an aggravated male voice was saying. Sigrid didn’t recognize it, but a closer examination of the energies within the room revealed a witch, an unconscious hybrid--Tyler, probably--and a vampire. So, the one speaking must have been the infamous Damon Salvatore, orchestrator of this entire goddamned mess. Sigrid allowed herself a smile at the thought of his suffering.

“You weren't supposed to kill Tyler!” Bonnie snapped.

“He tried to bite me!” Huh, go Tyler. Pity he didn’t manage it.

There was a slight pause, and when Bonnie spoke again, she sounded wary. “What is that?” the witch questioned.

“Nothing,” Damon said quickly. Sigrid’s interest piqued. 

Bonnie gasped. “Oh my God is that the--?” Damon shushed her, and when she continued, it was at a whisper. “Why do you have it?”

“Because I'm the only one who can get inside the house!” Damon hissed.

The two parted ways shortly thereafter, leaving Sigrid to puzzle over what she’d overheard. This was obviously important, but without actually witnessing the interaction, Sigrid was afraid she’d missed some key details. She ran their words through her head again.  _ Oh my God, is that the. . .  _ The what? . . .  _ Why do you have it? . . . The only one who can get inside the house. . . _ Sigrid sucked in a sharp breath in realization, blood running cold. Frantically, she pulled out her phone. 

_ DS has white oak stake! Be prepared for attack from within the house! _ Sigrid texted her brother, fingers shaking. This changed everything. Neither Sigrid, nor Niklaus, had ever anticipated Mikael giving the stake to someone else, distrustful old bastard that he was. As if things weren’t bad enough, Sigrid’s senses suddenly grabbed her attention as Mikael chose that very moment to enter the perimeter of her power that she had placed around the mansion. And he got to work right away.  _ He’s here. Going to compel the hybrids _ , Sigrid informed, anxiety ramping up another notch. 

_ Don’t lose your head _ , Nik responded quickly.  _ I’ll keep an eye out. You’ll only attract attention to yourself if you panic. _

Right. Not exactly the most comforting pep talk she’d ever been given, but true nonetheless. Sigrid inhaled deeply through her nose, then out through her mouth on a seven-count. She repeated the exercise in three sets of three, the way Kol had taught her right after they’d turned, when she’d had trouble keeping herself grounded.  _ “Three is the most stable number, seven the most powerful,”  _ he’d murmured into her ear, squeezing her tightly, comfortingly to his broad chest. _ “Focus. Keep yourself balanced, and you can do anything.” _

Sigrid hoped that was true. 

Mikael drew closer, circling the house, until Sigrid finally caught sight of him as he approached the front door. Her breathing nearly hitched, but Sigrid kept it under control. She breathed slowly, deeply, and--most importantly--quietly. Her father was an exceptional hunter and warrior, and his senses were unparalleled, unfortunately. Sigrid’s trick with the wind would likely keep her from being noticed, but she couldn’t be certain of that. A single misstep at this stage could mean discovery, and discovery would almost certainly mean being used as leverage against Niklaus. Sigrid would not allow that.

Carefully, she examined her father. He looked much the same as he had the last time Sigrid had seen him. Not in the 20’s, as her siblings probably expected, but rather the 60’s. She had only recently split from Niklaus’ company, needing a break from his bad attitude and increasing mania (he was such a  _ bore _ in the 60’s, honestly), when Mikael had tracked her down and captured her. He hadn’t tortured her in the traditional sense, but keeping her chained in silver shackles, locked in a windowless metal room with no access to either sunlight or fresh air, was a form of torture in and of itself, especially to a creature of nature like Sigrid. Still, she had refused to give him any information on her siblings, or indeed to speak to him at all. She had withered away quickly from lack of energy, and as she lost her vitality the silver began to burn her even more fiercely, until the flesh of her wrists had fairly melted beneath the toxic metal.

Mikael had taken pity on her then, or perhaps some vestigial remnant of fatherly tenderness had overtaken him, for he swapped out her silver chains for iron ones. Iron weakened her, yes, but not to the same extent as silver, and it didn’t hurt her to touch it. Sigrid had been nearly unconscious from pain when he came to unshackle her, tears sliding helplessly down her face.  _ “My brave little shield-maiden,”  _ he had said quietly to her in their mother tongue, voice rich with old affection of the kind he had shown her when she was just a child, too young to know that her father was not infallible.  _ “It was never my want to hurt you.” _

_ No,  _ Sigrid had thought. _ You just want to kill my brother.  _ She had escaped shortly thereafter, the iron allowing her enough strength to break out of her prison manually, though it still barred her access to her power. In the end, she was her father’s captive for five weeks. 

She always suspected that Mikael had allowed her to flee. Sigrid avoided Elijah and Niklaus for years, just in case Mikael still had eyes on her. By the time she saw her brothers again, she had completely recovered from the ordeal, and to her knowledge, neither of them had ever suspected a thing. 

Watching her father approach Lockwood manor now, where she and Nik lay waiting to kill him, Sigrid wondered how she was meant to feel. She had loved her father, once, before she had known enough to hate him. The first time she had seen him beat Niklaus bloody, that love had cracked. Nik had been a gentle boy. He was sensitive, and had a good heart, and that remained true to this very day. And though Nik certainly had the worst of it, he was not Mikael’s only victim. He never touched Rebekah or Sigrid, but Kol and even Elijah had received their own fair share of Father’s. . . punishments. Finn and Henrick as well, though less frequently. And how could Sigrid love a father who would hurt his children? More importantly, how could she feel anything but hatred for a man who terrorized her siblings?

But Sigrid had been alive for long enough to know that things--emotions in particular--were rarely as clear cut as people would like them to be. And try as she might, hatred was  _ not _ the only thing Sigrid felt towards her father. She knew from Finn’s stories that Mikael had been a different man before Freya was taken from them, that the death of his firstborn had broken something in their father. She knew that Father had loathed the idea of losing another child, had cared about them in his own way. That’s why he had been so devastated by Henick’s loss that he had pushed Mother towards black magic. And Sigrid knew that Mikael had truly believed that he was protecting his sons by being so harsh with them, believed that he was preparing them for the world.

Except for Niklaus. And that’s what it all came down to, really. No matter how he tried to justify it, Mikael had hurt Nik because he wanted to, had been cruel for cruelty’s sake. He had hunted Niklaus like an animal, for  _ centuries,  _ putting their entire family in the crosshairs as he did so, forcing them all to live in a constant state of low-level terror that at  _ any moment _ he might appear. And that mattered far more than any brief moment of tenderness or regret that Mikael showed towards Sigrid herself, far more than her own reluctant pity and sadness for the loss of the father that could have been, had Freya lived.

So despite herself, Sigrid regretted that her father had to die tonight. But she didn’t allow her determination to kill Mikael to waver. He had to die, because if he didn’t, then Niklaus would. And that simply wasn’t acceptable.

There was a shift in the dynamics of the party below as the hybrids began herding guests towards the backyard, leaving the front lawn and the inside of the house mostly deserted. This made it much easier to hone in on those who would be the key players in the coming confrontation. Mikael had reached the doorway, now, and after the briefest of moments his figure was bathed in light as Niklaus opened the front door. Sigrid resisted the urge to shift. From this point on, she wouldn’t be able to communicate with her brother unless she revealed herself. 

Even from the roof, Sigrid could see how her father’s eyes--so like Rebekah’s--glittered maliciously, and though he dressed in modern clothes and his hair was shorn close to his head, Mikael had never looked like anything other than a marauding Viking. She grimaced.

“Hello, Niklaus,” Mikael greeted, voice deceptively serene.

“Hello, Mikael,” Nik returned, perfectly glib on the surface. Sigrid wished that she could see his face more clearly, but couldn’t risk moving any further forward on the roof. As it stood, she had shifted enough that anyone who thought to look up would likely be able to glimpse her. Luckily, people rarely thought to look up. “Why don't you come in?” Niklaus invited. “Oh, that's right. I forgot you can't.”

“Or you can come outside if you want,” the Destroyer suggested mildly. 

Niklaus scoffed. “Or I could watch my hybrids tear you limb from limb.” On cue, a small number--about a dozen--of Nik’s hybrids gathered in the lawn behind Mikael. The majority of them remained out back, corralling the guests. Only the strongest of them had been selected for this job. No amount of hybrids would truly be able to handle Mikael by themselves, but too many bodies would only complicate things and decrease Sigrid’s maneuverability, so she and Nik had decided on a reduced force for this confrontation. It would likely also serve to reduce casualties, though that was truthfully an afterthought. The hybrids were not Sigrid’s main concern tonight. She didn’t know them. For all she cared, any number of them could die if it meant Nik’s survival. 

Mikael remained unruffled, not even glancing backwards. “They can’t kill me,” he asserted. 

“True,” Niklaus admitted casually. “But it'll make a hell of a party game. All I have to do is rub these two fingers together,” he raised a hand demonstratively, fingers a hairsbreadth apart, “and they'll pounce.”

Mikael chuckled lightly, patronizingly, and Sigrid could sense Nik’s hackles raising. She prayed that he would keep it together. “The big bad wolf,” Mikael mused. “You haven't changed. Still hiding behind your playthings like a coward.” Sigrid’s ire rose on her brother’s behalf, but she didn’t allow it to stir her. Mikael had said worse than that to all of them, even back when her family was human. “You only forget. They may be sired by you, but they're still part vampire. And they can be compelled by me.” One of Nik’s hybrids, Mindy, suddenly appeared at Mikael’s side, dragging a still disguised Katerina behind her. Watching carefully, Sigrid noticed when Mindy flicked her pinkie out three times in quick succession, and she permitted herself a small smile. “Come out and face me, Niklaus,” Mikael ordered, taking Katerina by the elbow and shaking her. “Or she dies.”

“Go ahead,” Nik spat. “Kill her.”

“No, Klaus! He'll do it!” Katerina gasped, affecting a look of terror. Mikael reached into his jacket and pulled out a small knife, pressing it to her back. Of course, he could kill both Katerina and the human doppelganger she was impersonating easily enough with his bare hands. A vampire, let alone an  _ Original _ vampire, was far more dangerous than any knife. However, humans--even humans who knew about the supernatural--often responded more viscerally to weapons than they did to anything else. If Mikael really  _ were _ threatening Elena, Sigrid imagined the knife would be more than enough to ensure her compliance. 

Sigrid took a moment to examine Damon’s aura within the house. He was very,  _ very _ slowly creeping closer to Niklaus, taking great care to sneak around the few remaining hybrids inside. Probably, he was moving at a snail’s pace in order to be sure he made absolutely no noise. He’d reach the front room soon enough, however, and then he would have to strike if he didn’t want to be discovered. Another few moments, perhaps. 

The white oak stake’s presence within the house made Sigrid nervous, but she was confident that Niklaus would be able to deal with Damon Salvatore. Even unarmed, Mikael was still the bigger threat. As long as Nik stayed inside, he’d be safe from their father (and even after all this time, Sigrid knew part of Niklaus still considered Mikael to be his father). At first, they’d assumed that it would be the job of Damon and his cohort to get Niklaus  _ out _ of the house. Apparently, however, something about Damon Salvatore or Elena Gilbert or Rebekah or  _ whoever _ . . . something had convinced Mikael to be unprecedentedly trusting. So for the first time in a thousand years, someone other than Sigrid’s father held the white oak stake.  _ I’m the only one who can get in the house! _ It was ingenious, really. . . and also infuriating. 

“If she dies, this lot will be the last of your abominations,” Mikael threatened, the anger and disgust Sigrid knew he embodied finally beginning to show in his voice. His words weren’t necessarily true. After all, most of Nik’s existing hybrids were out back, not preparing to confront Mikael, and more still--including some of the younger ones--had remained behind at a nearby hotel. Besides, Sigrid would eat her own foot if Nik hadn’t kept some spare doppelganger blood squared away for emergencies. 

“I don't need them,” Niklaus insisted. “I just need to be rid of you.” Hmm. Well, that was also a bit of a fib. Sigrid knew that having more hybrids around meant more to Nik than just additional protection. It stung a bit that she and her siblings weren’t enough to reassure Niklaus that he belonged, that he was loved and valued, but then again, they weren’t exactly the Brady Bunch. And if anyone understood the loneliness of being a completely unique creature, it was Sigrid. Her family often seemed to forget that.

“To what end, Niklaus?” Mikael questioned, giving a mocking laugh. “So you can live forever, with no one at your side?” Nobody cares about you anymore, boy!” Sigrid’s gut tightened. That wasn’t true. And what was more, Mikael  _ knew _ that wasn’t true! Nik had hurt them all over the centuries, but they had always refused to help their father hunt him down! Always! Until. . .

Until now. When beautiful, loving, loyal Rebekah had betrayed Niklaus to the boogeyman who had haunted them all for a millennium. And. . . and just a few months ago Elijah--solid, stalwart, protective Elijah--had tried to kill Nik for real. Had conspired against him with the very same people who now acted as Mikael’s allies. 

Norns, what had happened to them? How--how had things gotten to this point? Why were they all so determined to  _ hurt _ one another?! Was Sigrid the only one who saw how messed up this all was? How was she. . . how was she supposed to fix this? Rage and despair filled Sigrid in equal measure when she realized she didn’t have an answer.

The breeze kicked up slightly, passing gently through Sigrid’s hair, caressing her cheek. It felt cooler in some places than in others, and Sigrid realized absently that her face was wet with tears. She thought she felt a hand pass faintly down her stiff spine, and her muscles loosened as it went. The wind carried a quiet message, words for her ears alone, whispered by a familiar voice.

_ “I’m here with you, sunflower. . . Chin up. The battlefield is no place for doubt. Prove him wrong.” _

Who was Sigrid to deny an edict from Mother Earth?

Down below, Mikael was still spewing vitriol, and this time, Sigrid allowed her anger to fill her as he spoke. Gods, how was it that she’d been regretting his fate just a few moments ago, and now all she wanted was to plunge the white oak stake into his heart herself? “What do you have other than those whose loyalty you forced?” Mikael sneered. “No one.  _ No one. _ ” Well, mercurial tempers ran in the family, Sigrid supposed.

Suddenly, an immense vine erupted from the earth beneath the Destroyer’s feet, wrapping around his ankles and yanking him upwards and backwards like a snare trap as it peeled itself up and out of the lawn, shedding soil and grass as it went. Just as quickly, the vine hurled Mikael to the ground again, slamming him into the hard-packed dirt with a deafening crack. The earth crumbled around him, releasing more creeping vines, some of which were as thick as a man’s leg. Not giving the vampire time to struggle, the strangler fig lashed itself around Mikael’s body, cocooning him in a layer of dense plant matter and anchoring him to the ground. He roared in rage, thrashing. “ _ Daughter!” _ he cried out furiously, immediately recognizing Sigrid’s power. He tore at the vines, but they regrew too rapidly for him to break free.

Seeing Mikael trapped, the hybrids (all but Mindy, who had dragged a shell-shocked Katerina out of the way as soon as Sigrid had attacked) surged forward, surrounding him in a loose ring. Several of them leapt upon the downed Viking, attempting to pin his limbs as he lashed out with crushing strength. The hybrids flashed their eyes at him, growling and snapping like they wolves they could become, and dug their poisonous teeth into any exposed bit of flesh they could find (though they kept carefully away from Mikael’s own deadly fangs). The toxin wouldn’t kill Mikael, but it would weaken him, hopefully enough to give Sigrid and Niklaus the edge in this fight. “What is this?” Mikael snarled, attempting to jerk free, but between the vines and the hybrids, he remained restrained--for the moment at least.

Then and only then, did Sigrid reveal herself, dropping nimbly and soundlessly to the ground below. Her face felt tight with anger, but her body was loose and ready to move quickly. The vines were thick, but they wouldn’t hold her father forever. She would need to keep him occupied until Nik could get his hands on the white oak stake. For now, however, Mikael was at her mercy, and Sigrid had a thousand years worth of pain and fear and anger to work out. “As it happens,  _ Father _ ,” she hissed, and thunder rumbled dangerously above, “Niklaus  _ does _ have someone at his side. He always has, and he always will,” Sigrid vowed, glancing back at her brother as she spoke. Her heart ached at the look on his face, at the evidence of tears in his eyes, and her fury soared to new heights. She fought it back in order to send him a smile, winking conspiratorially. “Excellent idea, brother, having the hybrids drink some vervain this afternoon,” Sigrid said with false lightness. “So odd that Father really thought we would make such an  _ obvious _ oversight.” She hummed condescendingly, ruthlessly pressing down on the instinctive fear that attempted to make itself known at the enraged look on Mikael’s face. However angry he was. . . she was surely angrier. “Perhaps he’s losing his touch in his old age?”

Niklaus laughed, and Sigrid tried to ignore the thread of relief she could detect within the sound. Relief would imply that he’d been worried that what Mikael was saying might have been true, and if she hadn’t proven her loyalty to Nik by now, she wasn’t sure what else she could possibly do. “Thank you sister,” he chuckled, leaning against the wall just within the doorway. “It  _ is _ strange that Mikael would underestimate us so, but then again, I suppose he’s never really given us the chance for a fair fight before. Always relying upon the element of surprise to give him the advantage and send us into a panic.”

“He probably thought he’d have it tonight, as well,” Sigrid drawled, stalking forward into the lawn and curling her toes into the earth. She would be safer inside, but far less powerful, and she would need all of her power to deal with Mikael. As soon as she stepped off of the brick entryway and into the dirt, Sigrid felt stronger. She could feel energy flowing into her from the grass and the air and the trees and the strangler fig, fueling her, and she could feel the vines and roots beneath her feet and the wind in her hair and the ozone crackling in the sky above, heavy with moisture and the potential for lightning. “And he calls you a coward.”

“Hmm,” Nik smirked, eyes flashing. “Luckily, we suspected things weren’t quite as they seemed. The people in this town have proven themselves to be the distinct opposite of trustworthy, so we thought we’d plan ahead a little, just in case.” Ha! A little. As if they hadn’t spent nearly 15 hours straight concocting this scheme. “The vines are an excellent touch, if I do say so, Sigrid. I must admit, I was curious when you asked me to procure the seeds, but I see now that it was a fruitful venture.”

“Enough!” Mikael growled. “You speak of cowardice, yet you would keep me chained like a dog, rather than face me head on! Release me!”

“No,” Sigrid denied coldly. The wind whipped with her anger, tugging at her dark hair and at the billowy sleeves of the dress she’d donned to blend in at the party. Trees creaked and groaned at the edge of the property, and the lawn lit up brilliantly for a moment as lightning sparked overhead, immediately followed by an immense crack of thunder (though there was no sign of rain). The flash of light cast deep shadows over Sigrid’s face, highlighting the expression of cool rage on her delicate features. She stood perfectly still, even as the world around her shook in the gale force winds. “Because, unlike some people in this family, my pride means very little to me in the face of an imminent threat. I won’t sacrifice an advantage just to save face,” Sigrid insisted. She smiled unkindly. “In fact, if I can manage it, I think I’ll keep you ‘chained like a dog’ until Nik takes the white oak stake from that little baby vampire in the house and slams it into your cold, shriveled, unfeeling heart.”

Predictably, things escalated quickly after that. 

The revelation that they were aware of his presence sent Damon Salvatore scurrying into action, and Sigrid had just enough time to see him launch himself at Niklaus out of the corner of her eye before she had much more immediate problems to deal with. 

As she had anticipated, not even the hybrids and strangler fig combined were enough to hold a truly motivated Mikael, and as soon as the fight broke out within the house, the Destroyer released a truly bone-chilling battle cry. Tearing his right arm and shoulder free of his restraints, Mikael seized the nearest hybrid by the nape and dragged her in to tear at her throat, then did the same to another when he foolishly attempted to help his packmate. Sigrid felt the strength of her father’s aura increase as he fed, minimizing the effects of the wolf venom, which was still in its early stages. She swore, and blasted some hybrids away from his upper body with a burst of wind. At this point, they were only feeding him, which was the opposite of helpful. To the rest of them, she shouted, “Either hold him down, or get the hell out of there!” but they merely snarled at her, not recognizing her authority and angry over her treatment of their fellows. “Idiots!” Sigrid scolded. “Don’t take your eyes off him!”

Their distraction cost the hybrids, as without their attention, Mikael took the opportunity to pull the rest of his body free of the tangled vines. Sigrid attempted to replace the broken vines with new ones, but now that he was anticipating the attack, her father was fully capable of catching and snapping the limbs of the creeping plant before they could latch onto him. He leapt to his feet, and in a movement too quick for Sigrid to catch, tore the heart from the nearest hybrid’s chest. Enraged, the rest converged upon him, and he used their presence to his advantage, batting them into the line of fire whenever Sigrid tried to snare or stab him with a vine. After the fifth time she had to pull a vine to a sudden stop lest she impale one of her brother’s “comrades,” Sigrid had had enough. Plan A had been for the hybrids to help restrain Mikael until they could find the stake and kill him, but now that they’d been forced to move on to Plan B, the hybrids were just mucking things up. “Nik!” she yelled, exasperated. “Get your little friends out of here before I accidentally kill one of them! They’re just getting in the way!”

She didn’t particularly pay attention to his response, focused as she was on the battle at hand, but he must have called out an order to that effect, because the hybrids scattered a moment later. Many of them had not been invited into the house, so they lingered on the outskirts of the area--out of the way, but within range if she needed backup. Good enough.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Mikael did not press forward to attack her. He had always maintained that she and her full-blooded siblings were not the targets of his rage, after all. And for whatever reason, he had always seemed especially eager to prove that to  _ her _ . Maybe because she wasn’t a vampire, maybe because--as the only one of her siblings that still retained any magical ability--she reminded him of Freya. Sigrid didn’t know. But if she knew her father’s M.O. for these encounters (which she did), then he was about to try to give her a recruitment speech.

After a moment, Sigrid gave up on attacking with the vines. It was clear that Mikael would not allow that particular weapon to touch him, now that he knew about it. The wind continued to blow angrily, whipping Sigrid’s hair about, but never obscuring her vision. Lightning flashed again, and thunder rumbled loudly throughout the heavens above as Sigrid and her father faced one another across the front yard of Lockwood manor, a scant few yards separating them. 

“So much rage, my little shield-maiden,” Mikael murmured, sounding remarkably fond for a man who had been roaring at her in fury a few minutes ago. “You get that from me, you know,” he commented.

Sigrid pursed her lips. The scuffle inside was still ongoing. What was taking Niklaus so long? The baby vampire must have been more resourceful than Sigrid had given him credit for. Well, time to stall. There was no point in attempting to subdue Mikael again until they actually had a way to kill him. “I don’t know,” she responded drolly. “Mother could be pretty wrathful herself.”

Mikael chuckled, and the sound was achingly familiar. He had already been a hard man by the time Sigrid was born, but she still remembered him hoisting her up onto his shoulders at her insistence when she was very young, laughing that same rough laugh. “True. You certainly inherited her particular brand of ruthlessness, as well,” he said, clearly referencing her threat to murder him while he was trapped and utterly unable to defend himself. That  _ was _ something Mother would do, but Sigrid preferred to think of it as Kol’s influence. He alone among Sigrid’s siblings killed all of his enemies without fail. None of that “leaving them alive to suffer” crap that Nik and Rebekah were fond of. A living enemy was a dangerous one. A dead enemy was only  _ potentially _ dangerous. “I’m doing this for her, you know,” Mikael added, as if that was supposed to make a difference. “ _ He _ killed her, not I.” Right, that was supposed to be a revelation, apparently.

“I know,” Sigrid said plainly, loosely crossing her arms.

“You--” Mikael fumbled, and Sigrid fought the urge to snicker. She couldn’t remember ever hearing him stumble over his words before. “You know?”

“Yep.” Sigrid popped the “p” at the end, just to be irritating. 

“Then why do you stand by him?!” Mikael erupted fury overtaking his voice once more. Now  _ this _ was familiar territory. “He is a murderous, traitorous  _ beast _ ! Nothing more than a  _ bastard _ , and a pathetic one at that! Inflicting pain on others because he is too  _ weak _ to handle his own!”

“Are you talking about Niklaus, or yourself,  _ Father _ ?” Sigrid goaded, her own anger winning over the fear she felt whenever Mikael raised his voice. All this time, she’d been so very afraid, and she had let that stop her from doing what she should have years ago. Sigrid was the only one of her siblings who Mikael couldn’t kill, but he had built himself up as this figure of nightmares and pain that could never be beaten, and had always attacked so suddenly and without warning, that she had never really stood a chance against him before this moment. And she found that now, when it came down to it and she faced her father head-on. . . well, there were some things she wanted to get off of her chest.

“You dare--!” Mikael began dangerously, but Sigrid cut him off. 

“Let me make one thing very clear,” she said, voice low. “That curse. . . What Mother did to Niklaus--what  _ you _ told her to do? That was a travesty. It was unnatural, disgusting, and wrong. And that’s not even mentioning all the other abuses you two put him through when we were children.” Sigrid looked her father dead in the eyes when she next spoke. “If Nik hadn’t killed her that night, I would have.” Mikael appeared somewhat shocked, and she continued before he could speak. “Now tell me. If I  _ had _ been the one to kill her, would you have spent all these years hunting  _ me? _ ” Sigrid accused.

Mikael grit his teeth, but didn’t answer.

“I’ll take that as a no. In that case, don’t try to make this about Mother.”

“He turned you all against me!” Mikael shouted, surging forward, but Sigrid stood her ground. The wind howled as it circled them almost visibly, kicking up bursts and swirls of dirt and loose grass. “My own children, poisoned against me by the lies of a sniveling, cowardly bastard!”

“Oh no, Father,” Sigrid sneered. “You turned us against  _ yourself _ , no assistance required. We all loved and respected you once, but love and respect can hardly hold up against years of disregard and abuse--and that’s even before Henrick died!” Sigrid released a helpless, somewhat hysterical laugh, fingers curling so tight she thought they might draw blood from her palms. A familiar presence suddenly made itself known at the edge of her senses, moving quickly through the forest and into the house via the back door. Time for the finishing blow. “By the time Nik killed Mother, there wasn’t a chance in  _ hell _ that any of us would have chosen you over him, and you have no one to blame for _ that _ but yourself!”

Mikael roared and sped towards her, enraged, and there was nothing Sigrid could have done to stop him from grabbing her by the throat and lifting her into the air by it. He squeezed her neck so tightly that Sigrid could feel all sorts of important things in there rubbing painfully up against one another. Having her full body weight dangling from her head and neck was not what Sigrid would call pleasant. Luckily, she didn’t actually need to breathe, so while the move  _ hurt _ , it wasn’t really debilitating the way it would have been for a human, a witch, or even a werewolf. Inside, the new aura joined Niklaus and Damon’s ongoing confrontation. So, their little carrot and stick method had proved useful, after all. Stefan was so easy to manipulate.

“Fine then,” Mikael snarled. “If you stand with him, then you will fall beside him.” And he plunged his hand into her gut.

Oh bloody, buggering hell that hurt! Inside, Nik’s presence split off from Damon and Stefan’s and raced towards the front door. Good. Ow! Mikael tore his hand free of her intestines with a vicious twist. Norns, that was petty. Gut wounds were the worst way to die, which Mikael very well knew. So much for it “not being his want to hurt her.” 

Mentally, Sigrid swore up a colorful storm. Physically, she called out to the real one brewing overhead. It thundered enthusiastically at her prodding. Sigrid opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) and coughed, hacking up a gob of thick blood. She grinned madly at her father, baring bloody teeth and dimples alike as if they were weapons. Mikael’s brow furrowed, a thousand years of warrior’s instinct likely telling him to be wary. Unfortunately for him, it was far too late for that. “Only one person here. . . is going to die tonight,” Sigrid choked out from between blood-soaked lips. 

And lightning split the heavens as she called it down upon them.

The force of the lightning bolt hitting them was unlike anything Sigrid had ever experienced. Oddly enough, she’d never had a reason to strike herself with lightning before. It was hot and blinding and overwhelming and utterly raw in a beautiful sort of way. Where any other person would have been left burned, agonized, and probably dead, the bolt filled Sigrid to the brim with pure, unadulterated natural energy. Her skin tingled strangely, feeling as if it was twisting and twitching on some imperceptible level. In her long life, Sigrid had allowed herself to become one with the air, with water, and even fire, but never with electricity. She wondered if this jumpy, energized, elated sensation is what that would feel like. For a moment, she seemed to hover within and without her own body simultaneously, tasting ozone and potential energy on the air.

Then Mikael’s grip on her throat faltered as he stumbled backwards, skin blackened. Sigrid fell to the ground, dress smoking faintly and still bleeding heavily from her stomach. She heaved, vomiting blood, before collapsing into a crumpled heap, unable to move despite the fact that her body was still nearly vibrating with energy. The grass beneath her was charred, the earth ruptured in some place, exposing withered vines. With difficulty, Sigrid forced herself to look up at her father.

Mikael’s flesh was burnt black and red, his hair and clothes nearly carbonized. He seemed to be frozen, muscles locked in place as they spasmed with aftershocks of the onslaught of electricity, contracting too quickly and harshly for him to regain control of his movements. Only his eyes could still move, and as he turned them towards Sigrid, she found that the emotion in them was hard to decipher. Mikael had never been one to wear his emotions on his sleeve--save for anger, hatred, disappointment--so his daughter couldn’t read him as easily as she could other members of their family. But it was clear he knew what was about to happen. Sigrid thought she glimpsed a number of things behind his eyes. Fear, anger, acceptance. A bit of pride. Regret.

But then again, she couldn’t be sure. 

And when Niklaus flew out of the house and plunged the white oak stake into their father’s heart, all Sigrid felt as she watched the man burn was satisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out Sigrid's interference actually made the fight bigger and deadlier than in canon! I'm fine with that though, since I always thought the original fight wasn't nearly satisfying after everything the show did to hype up Mikael. He's a much better antagonist in The Originals, in my opinion.
> 
> I hope everyone liked the fight scene, or at least thought it wasn't awful. I'm not very experienced with writing them, so feedback is welcome! As always, thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anger is a dangerous thing when you have the power of nature itself at your fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. The world is exploding. I don’t really think this is the place to go on a political rant, but I do think it’s important to take this opportunity to say some things, so let me leave you with this:
> 
> Change, and especially the process of change, can be very frightening. However, I encourage all of you to stay engaged in this process in whatever capacity you are able. We are all, every one of us, a work in progress. And we need to make progress. Change can be scary, but it’s also a vital aspect of learning, improvement, and the human condition. Everyone, please stay informed, stay smart, and--above all--stay safe.

Sigrid sat cross-legged in the long grass, breathing deeply and evenly, rhythmically, as she hovered in a nearly meditative state. Eyes closed, she allowed the early autumn sun to wash over her face and her bare arms, smoothing over the jagged edges of the rage that had been building in her still-sore stomach ever since Niklaus had informed her of Stefan’s most recent desperate maneuver. Sigrid hated feeling angry, she found it exhausting, yet ever since she’d first come to this horrid little town all those months ago, she felt that she’d never truly been without anger. 

First she’d been angry with Elijah for trying to kill Nik. Then she’d spent the summer angry with Nik for fulfilling all of her worst expectations of him. Then she’d been angry with Rebekah for her betrayal (still  _ was _ angry about that, in fact) and at Mikael for being the world’s worst father, not to mention Katerina and all the supernatural inhabitants of Mystic Falls for their role in the previous night’s fiasco. And now Sigrid was so far beyond furious with Stefan for his latest stunt that she’d circled back around to a strange state of dangerous calm. It was as if last night, when she had allowed her anger with Mikael to come to the forefront, she had somehow lost her sense of restraint. She wanted to scream, she wanted to tear at the earth with her bare hands, she wanted to  _ hurt _ someone. And if she saw anyone she considered an enemy at this moment, Sigrid honestly wasn’t sure _ what _ she would do.

And for a being of her capabilities, that was an alarming thought indeed.

So. Meditation.

Sigrid sighed, once more reaching out along the connections that tethered her to her missing siblings in an attempt to locate them. Once more, she found nothing. Not for the first time that morning, she cursed Stefan, Nik, and herself in equal measure.

Though Niklaus had killed Mikael last night--and wasn’t that a thought that hadn’t quite sunk in yet--he hadn’t managed to get enough blood into Sigrid’s system to heal her before she'd succumbed to her injuries. Gut wounds were truly a bitch. By the time she’d woken from death about three hours later, Stefan had stolen her family right out from under Niklaus’ nose and somehow cloaked them--and himself--such that even Sigrid couldn’t sense their presence.

But no one had ever accused Sigrid Mikaelson of being a quitter. As soon as she’d recuperated enough from her ordeal to stand up straight, she had relocated to the backyard of the enormous (currently somewhat shabby) mansion that Nik had purchased for their family. There, she had plopped herself down on the cool earth to center herself in the hopes of finding her siblings. . . and of calming herself down from the towering temper that had seen another freak storm barreling through Mystic Falls in the dead of night. And there she had remained for nearly 10 hours, sitting through the storm, the graying of the sky as the sun neared the horizon, the whistling of the early morning birds, and eventually even the brilliant, blazing orange sunrise.

Now it was late morning, and Nik would soon be back from his journey to the neighborhood watering hole, where he had planned to confront Damon Salvatore and the doppelganger Elena on Stefan’s whereabouts. As the Ripper’s brother and ex (?) girlfriend, Niklaus figured that if anyone knew where Stefan was, it would be them. Personally, Sigrid had a different prime suspect in one Bonnie Bennett. As the only witch in town, she no doubt had  _ something _ to do whatever cloaking spell was hiding the daggered Mikaelsons from Sigrid’s senses. But of course, Nik hadn’t wanted to listen to her arguments. It was like he had  _ blinders  _ on, and anything that wasn’t his doppelganger or his pet Ripper gone rogue didn’t even register as  _ relevant _ to him. And that attitude was what got them into this  _ trainwreck _ to begin with!

Meditate. Deep breaths. 

So while Sigrid had been all for settling this particular matter with violence, for once it was her hybrid brother who was hoping for a relatively bloodless solution. Normally, Sigrid would be proud. Currently, she was mostly frustrated. Nik still needed Elena’s blood to make more hybrids, and Sigrid understood that. But for whatever reason he didn’t seem to want to kill Stefan, either, even now. Was he really that  _ desperate _ for companionship? Why didn’t he understand that Sigrid wasn’t going anywhere? And neither would the others if he’d just pull his head out of his arse and--!

Calm. Calm down.

Niklaus had implored Sigrid to remain patient until he had at least given Stefan’s friends a chance to come clean (though both he and Sigrid doubted they would do so, even if they  _ did _ know where the Ripper was). Then, Nik had promised, they could start issuing threats and bodily harm. And while everything in Sigrid rebelled at the idea of inaction in this moment, she wasn’t enough of a hypocrite to go against her brother when he was finally utilizing some form of diplomacy, bastardized though it may have been. She reminded herself that she  _ wanted _ Niklaus to negotiate, and that on the whole she wanted that  _ more _ than she wanted to tear Stefan Salvatore’s spine out through his throat. 

Eyes still closed, Sigrid sensed it easily when Niklaus approached her at an inhuman clip. She could feel his anger even from a distance, and--still keeping a careful lid on her own cold fury--she glanced at him measuringly when he stopped in front of her, opening her eyes for the first time in hours. “I take it it didn’t go well,” she deadpanned, examining the tightness around his eyes and his tense posture. Her own expression was also fairly stiff, she could tell.

“They were predictably uncooperative,” Niklaus confirmed, crossing his arms. “Though I suspect it was more out of a genuine lack of knowledge regarding Stefan’s actions and whereabouts than it was any misguided sense of obstinance.” This fact seemed to frustrate Niklaus greatly.

Sigrid hummed. “Though they hardly seem to lack that,” she pointed out, absently twining the stem of a nearby wildflower around her fingers. She accidentally tugged too hard, uprooting it, and she felt a stab of irritation and regret in equal measure as the life seeped out of it.

“No,” Nik snorted. “But that’s no matter. If they still don’t comply with our perfectly reasonable requests, even after a more detailed explanation. . . well,” he flashed Sigrid a manic grin. “I have arranged for young Jeremy Gilbert to. . . have an unfortunate accident, shall we say.”

Standing with a stretch and shaking out limbs tense from hours of rage, Sigrid grunted. “Well let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” She had no problem threatening the boy if it would ensure his sister’s cooperation, but she rather doubted that Jeremy Gilbert had ever presented a genuine threat to her family in the past. And angry as she was, Sigrid still preferred to direct that anger towards those who deserved it, when possible. Jeremy Gilbert was not currently a subject of her ire. “Plan B it is,” she said decisively, smirking up at her brother sharply. “Let’s go get Rebekah.”

* * *

As Niklaus made his grand entrance through the wide front doors of the Salvatore Boarding House, Sigrid circled around back, closer to where she could feel Rebekah’s presence--muted by a dagger though it may have been. Her sister was inside, near the south end of the building, below ground level. Likely, they were keeping her body in a cellar of some kind. Sigrid sneered at the thought, her ire surging to the forefront once more. She shook it off forcefully. Anger was unproductive. Later.

Searching for an unlocked window, Sigrid listened idly to the conversation echoing throughout the house as Nik confronted Damon with the dual purpose of filling the younger vampire in on Stefan’s idiotic scheme. . . and distracting him so that he didn’t notice Sigrid breaking into the house.

Luckily, vampires tended to be fairly blasé with home security, considering that the only home invaders they really had to worry about were their fellow supernatural beings, none of whom were going to be stopped by a locked door or window. Accordingly, Sigrid found an open window easily enough. True, it was on the second floor, but that was hardly an obstacle. Deftly, she leapt into the air, allowing the wind to buoy her such that she landed absolutely silently on the wide window ledge above. Crouching, she examined her surroundings. A bedroom, not lived in. Likely intended for guests, as this  _ was _ ostensibly a boarding house. 

Perfect.

Sigrid swept quietly across the room and out the door, feet scarcely brushing the hardwood floors. Stepping out into the hallway, her brother’s dulcet tones became instantly more audible, and Sigrid noticed a bannister leading to an immense set of stairs a few yards away, from which Niklaus’ voice was emanating. Carefully, she skirted away from it, keeping close to the wall. Obviously she’d need to find another way downstairs, but that shouldn’t be too difficult. A place this big probably had at least two main staircases, and a place this old probably had servant’s stairs hidden somewhere as well. 

“Well, I did have a front row seat when your sister lied to you,” Sigrid heard Damon taunt Niklaus as she retreated down the hallway, and she nearly gave up on stealth in favor of going back to light him on fire. It wasn’t like she and Nik couldn’t just beat the tar out of him,  _ then _ get Rebekah.

But Nik seemed to be sticking to the plan, so Sigrid would as well. For now. “Yeah, well she's fickle that one,” Niklaus said, and to an untrained ear he would have sounded largely unruffled at the reminder of Rebekah’s betrayal. Sigrid knew better. “And you say you have no idea of her whereabouts?” he prodded, giving Damon a chance to own up to the fact that Rebekah was locked in the basement.

Of course, he failed to do so, tossing out another mindlessly irritating quip instead. Sigrid gritted her teeth, fighting back the urge to mete out any feats of unimaginable violence. She’d be disappointed in herself afterwards if she went on a rampage. She always was.

Sigrid’s fury was more destructive than most, and she knew all too well that if she didn’t control  _ it _ , it would control  _ her. _ There had been a period in her life, when she and her siblings were still young immortals, when Sigrid’s emotions had been so closely tied to her abilities that the slightest fit of pique had been enough to cause dangerous storms. And the more upset she got, the worse the effects of her anger or her hurt or sadness. . . which then only made her  _ more _ upset, seeing the destruction she wrought. It was a vicious, uncontrollable cycle. She’d gained a great measure of control and experience since then, but she would never forget the fact that it was her anger which had led directly to one of the deadliest earthquakes of all time, when a witch in Aleppo had captured Kol in the 1100’s. Sigrid had wanted to hurt that woman, but she  _ hadn’t _ wanted to create a seismic incident that had killed over 230,000 people.

Sigrid had no particular love for humans. They were loud and disrespectful and ignorant. There were far too many of them to be sustainable, and they were slowly but surely destroying the earth. But she would never forget the sounds of children screaming for their parents as their homes collapsed around them, crushing and suffocating them beneath tons of solid rock. Or as the earth opened up and swallowed them whole. She didn’t deserve to forget it. And truthfully, it served as a helpful reminder whenever she felt her emotions rising to dangerous levels.

At the end of the day, Sigrid had a body count higher than any of her siblings could ever hope to match--and not just from that incident, either. She didn’t allow herself to wallow in guilt about it (not anymore at least), but she did regret it. Killing Damon Salvatore might be therapeutic. Accidentally destroying Mystic Falls--and potentially even the state of Virginia as a whole--would be far from it.

Nature wasn’t kind, and neither was Sigrid, particularly. But she tried not to be cruel.

She sighed noiselessly, following the air currents whose flow indicated a large open space ahead, even as she battled her own violent impulses. Damon Salvatore would live another day, it seemed. Sigrid tried not to feel too bitter about it. 

“Happy thoughts, Sigrid,” she breathed to herself as she quietly descended the staircase she’d found at the other end of the hallway and around a couple of corners. “You’ll see Rebekah soon.”

_ Yeah, Rebekah who you’re  _ also _ angry with because she sold you and Nik out to Mikael, all because of something Nik did a thousand years ago. Oh, and let’s not forget about how this is all Nik’s  _ bloody fault _ to begin with for lying all the time, and daggering the rest, and leaving them vulnerable, and antagonizing Stefan, and  _ oh _ don’t even get me  _ started _ on Stefan-- _

Okay, so, evidently happy thoughts weren’t quite going to cut it today.

Pushing her temper to the back of her mind to be dealt with later (because that was healthy), Sigrid pursed her lips, following the pull of Rebekah’s presence and the feeling of stale air to a second, smaller set of stairs behind a closed wooden door. She jimmied the lock easily enough, and the door opened with only the slightest of creaks. Without pausing, Sigrid crept down the narrow steps, running her hand along the cool stone walls as she went. 

Rebekah was easy to find. In the enclosed, underground space, her aura was obvious to Sigrid even in her desiccated state. Bekah’s body was locked in a small, bare room roughly hewn from the stone surrounding the cellar. Through the open slat on the door separating them, Sigrid spied her sister’s form lying prone on the dusty floor of the cell. Her blonde hair was perfectly curled. The necklace Mother had given her nestled perfectly in the hollow of her throat, just above the sweetheart neckline of the brilliant red dress she had donned to attend her first ever high school dance. A dress which was now stained with blood surrounding the silver dagger embedded in her back.

Even with the knowledge that Rebekah had helped orchestrate the attack that had occurred at the very party she had so longed to attend, Sigrid couldn’t help but thaw slightly towards her sister as she took in the sight of her. “Oh, Beks,” she sighed. “What’s happened to you?”

The cell door was made of metal and proved more difficult to break past than the first had, indicating that the Salvatores probably  _ did _ use this room as a genuine dungeon of sorts when the need arose. Still, few doors had ever stopped Sigrid when she was determined, and she carefully conjured a small handful of flames. Gradually, she poured more thermal energy into them until they burned white hot, hot enough to melt steel, or even iron. Satisfied with their heat, Sigrid used the flames to heat the metal surrounding the hinges on the left side of the door until it was red hot, goopy, and malleable. Small droplets of melted metal fell to the floor, accompanied by loud hissing noises as hot metal met cold stone. After a few short moments Sigrid was able to smoothly push the door open around the now somewhat deformed hinges, molten metal giving way and parting with the slightest bit of pressure. She extinguished the fire quickly and darted forward, fleet-footed. 

Upon reaching Rebekah’s body, Sigrid slowed unconsciously. Gingerly, she knelt, reaching out to stroke her fingers through Rebekah’s soft curls. Breath hitching slightly, Sigrid tucked a lock of hair behind her sister’s ear. Her fingers trailed along Rebekah’s cold cheek as she retracted her hand, folding it into her lap. Helpless anger and hurt and desperate love rose in her throat all at once, threatening to choke her, and Sigrid was powerless to stop the tears that suddenly flooded her eyes. Her vision blurred. “Why?” she whispered, voice thick and tight. “What were you thinking, Bekah?”

Her sister’s corpse had no answer. 

Sigrid cleared her throat quietly, briefly pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. Right. Not the time. She had to get Rebekah out of this damn basement and back to the house. Arguing could come later. 

And there would  _ certainly _ be arguing.

Even though the thought of touching silver was--as ever--appalling, the temptation to undagger Rebekah then and there was strong. However, Rebekah had been daggered for a short enough period that there was every chance she might wake up during transport if Sigrid removed the dagger now. That would be. . . less than ideal. Plus, Sigrid didn’t have anywhere to put the dagger if she did take it out. She sure as hell wasn’t going to carry it.

Sigrid sighed. Though she could no longer hope to hear their conversation, she  _ could _ sense that Niklaus and Damon were both still upstairs--and likely still trading barbs. She wouldn’t be able to carry Rebekah out the way she’d come in. The extra weight would make Sigrid much noisier, even with help from the wind. What to do, what to do?

Sigrid glanced at the stone walls of the cellar consideringly. Hmm.

Well, they couldn’t be  _ that _ thick, could they?

* * *

An hour later found Sigrid lounging near Rebekah’s feet on the table in Nik’s mansion upon which she had deposited her sister’s body. Both Sigrid and Rebekah were coated in a layer of dirt. Sigrid had spent the last few minutes picking small pieces of bedrock out of her hair, but had--rather passive-aggressively--left Bekah’s alone. Digging the both of them out of the Salvatore’s basement hadn’t exactly been difficult (Sigrid could shift earth and stone as easily as topsoil), and  _ Sigrid _ had no issues with a little dirt and a few worms, but she knew Rebekah did. And right now she was frustrated enough with her sister to want her to suffer a bit when she woke up. Seemingly, that wouldn’t be for a little while yet. The silver dagger no longer sat in Rebekah’s heart, rather it lay beside Rebekah’s head. But the blonde’s skin was still gray in hue. She hadn’t yet shown any signs of waking. Selfishly, Sigrid couldn’t help but be a little glad. She had no idea how she’d react to Rebekah at the moment, and as angry as she was, Sigrid never wanted to hurt her sister.

Sometimes it felt like she was the only one of her siblings who understood that particular idea.

As if summoned by the thought of wrathful family members, Niklaus chose that moment to barrel through the front. This time, a satisfied smirk sat upon his lips as he approached Sigrid. Something inside of her prickled dangerously at the sight of his gratification, but she pushed it down.

“Norns,” Sigrid snorted, “Is Jeremy Gilbert even amongst the land of the living?”

“Ah well,” Nik shrugged, “the car hit the history teacher instead when he pushed the boy out of the way, but I hear it was a gruesome scene, so I’d say message delivered.” He grinned. “Punishment for lying to me about Rebekah, plus incentive to find Stefan. Two birds, one hit and run.”

Sigrid grimaced at the turn of phrase, irritated for a reason she couldn’t quite identify. “You’re a poet, Niklaus.”

His smile was sharklike, but Sigrid could see something brittle hiding behind his eyes. “‘All poets are mad,’” he quoted.

Sigrid examined her brother. “Robert Burton,” she acknowledged. “Now  _ he  _ was an odd one.” She paused. “Elijah liked him. He was a man of science, psychology.” Now it was Sigrid’s turn to smirk, though her chest felt a bit tight at the thought of her older brother and his friend. “Dry English wit.”

“I liked him too,” Niklaus insisted, eyes boring into Sigrid’s face. “He was ahead of his time.”

Sigrid looked away, back towards Rebekah’s still body. “‘I write of melancholy, by being busy to avoid melancholy,’” she murmured. It was her turn to quote their old acquaintance. “‘There is no greater cause of melancholy than idleness, no better cure than business.'” Sigrid hated being idle.

Niklaus turned to look at Rebekah as well, and his face tightened with a myriad of emotions. Anger, hurt, grief. Sigrid sighed. She might have been upset with her brother, but in their confusion and hurt over Rebekah’s actions they were united. And truthfully, Sigrid could only  _ imagine _ how Nik was feeling. Mikael had terrified her, but she hadn’t been his target, hadn’t been the object of his rage and abuse for years upon years. To have your worst nightmare set upon you by your own sister. . . 

“Why did she do it?” Nik whispered, reaching out to run the backs of his fingers over Rebekah’s cheek. Well, at least he didn’t seem to be feeling  _ violently _ angry.

Sigrid sighed gustily. “I don’t know, Nik,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.  _ Sometimes _ it feels like all that my siblings want to  _ do _ is hurt each other,” she said rather pointedly. “Physically, emotionally.” Sigrid shook her head, running a hand through her dirty hair. “It’s like. . . you hurt each other, so you don’t trust each other. And you don’t trust each other, so you hurt each other. And so everyone just ends up hurt and distrustful and then something like this happens!” Sigrid exclaimed, gesturing harshly between Niklaus and Rebekah.

Niklaus’ eyes hardened, and Sigred knew before he even opened his mouth that he hadn’t gotten what she’d intended out of her words. “You blame me, don’t you?” he accused, turning towards Sigrid aggressively. “You think this,” he jabbed a finger at Rebekah, “is my fault!”

Sigrid groaned. “That’s not what I said,” she began.

Her brother cut her off. “But it’s what you meant,” he sneered, upper lip curled. “You blame me, you’re angry with me! You think it’s my fault Rebekah  _ defected _ and Stefan took the coffins,  _ admit it _ !” Niklaus snarled, slamming a hand down loudly on the table.

The temper Sigrid had been suppressing all day rose abruptly to the forefront, and she felt her own face twist into an angry scowl. “I never said--”

“ _ ADMIT IT!”  _ Niklaus roared, and Sigrid snapped.

“ _ Fine! _ ” she yelled, surging to her feet. A sudden wind whipped through the room, blowing about the tarps and plastic furniture coverings that dotted the space. “ _ Fine! _ You know what, Nik, I  _ am _ angry with you. And maybe some small, uncharitable part of me  _ does  _ blame you a little bit for this mess. Because you  _ create  _ enemies, everywhere you go, and then you don’t bother to properly dispose of them. And you  _ lie _ ,  _ all  _ the time, even to the people who love you, because you’re too afraid to really trust us. You’ve alienated our entire family, even the ones who’ve only ever sought to help you, and all for what? For  _ what _ , Niklaus?!” Sigrid shouted, enraged. The light pouring in through the windows dimmed suddenly, as if a cloud had swept over the sun, and Sigrid continued before Niklaus could interrupt. “And don’t  _ think _ it’s escaped my notice that if our siblings were  _ awake _ , they never would have been vulnerable to a  _ god damned poaching baby vampire _ in the  _ first _ place!” The front door slammed open with the force of the wind outside, thunder rumbled ominously. The screams of the children in Aleppo echoed in her ears, and Sigrid abruptly deflated.

Her chest heaved as she sought to calm herself, returning her voice to a more regular volume. Nik’s face was contorted with anger and hurt, but--miraculously--he didn’t try to speak. Three times, Sigrid sucked in a deep breath, held it for seven beats, and released it. She looked up at Nik, head clearer than it had been since she woke up that morning to find her siblings gone. “But here’s the important thing, Nik,” Sigrid said insistently. “The thing you don’t seem to be grasping properly.” Gently, slowly, she reached out to extract one of his hands from the knot he’d tied his arms into, and clasped it between her own palms. His hand was shaking slightly, and Sigrid squeezed it. “Being angry with you,” she began, tilting her head to make sure Niklaus met her firm gaze, “doesn’t mean that I love you any less today than I did yesterday, or the day before, or a thousand years ago,” Sigrid swore. “Nothing you’ve  _ ever _ done has made me love you any less. And I think that’s something you’ve always struggled to understand.” She twisted one of her hands to lace her fingers with his, and Niklaus allowed it, staring at her with something fragile and guarded in his eyes. “So yes, I’m mad at you,” Sigrid reiterated plainly, allowing a small smile to curl over her lips. “But I’ll  _ forgive _ you. And I hope,” she added, tugging him sideways to face Rebekah’s body again. “That you and Rebekah will be able to forgive one another as well.” Bekah’s skin seemed to be lightening; she’d probably wake up relatively soon.

There was a long moment of quiet before Niklaus spoke. “She worked with Mikael,” he said, then stopped, as if unable to continue. 

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely  _ furious _ with her,” Sigrid said matter-of-factly. “But she was hurt, incredibly so I imagine. And she wanted you to feel that same hurt, so she went along with a horrific plan that was already in motion. Remind me to skin Katerina the next time I see her, by the way.”

“Rebekah wanted me  _ dead _ ,” Nik grit out, not to be deterred. His hand clenched tightly enough around Sigrid’s that she feared for her knuckles. The pain in his voice would have been obvious to anyone. 

“I don’t believe that,” Sigrid said immediately, and with complete surety. “She was angry and upset and she lashed out.” She eyed her brother sidelong. “I’d think you of all people might be able to relate.”

“You’re no saint yourself,” Nik fired back, and Sigrid was relieved to see a slight smirk on his lips. “You’ve done your fair share of lashing out over the years. Often accompanied by some sort of catastrophic natural disaster.”

“Yeah, well, at least I  _ try _ not to,” she said dryly. She pursed her lips slightly, glancing away. “Sorry I shouted.”

Niklaus shook his head, releasing his hold on Sigrid’s hand in favor of wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “Don’t apologize to me.” Another pause. “You think she didn’t really want me dead?”

Sigrid’s very essence rebelled at the thought of Rebekah wishing death on any of their siblings. “I think,” she began, winding an arm around her brother’s waist and tucking her head into his chest, “that the only way Elena Gilbert could be sure Rebekah wouldn’t rush to help you last night was to stick a dagger in her back.” Sigrid tipped her chin upwards, looking at Niklaus and finding that most of her anger with him seemed to have dissipated. “And while she’ll no doubt still be furious with you when she wakes up, I think that ultimately. . . she’ll just be glad you’re alive. Even if she’s too stubborn to admit it.”

Suddenly, Rebekah’s hand twitched. Sigrid blanched, pulling herself out of Niklaus’ embrace and turning to push him towards the door. “That being said, uh, scram. Now.”

Nik didn’t even have the grace to pretend that her shoving was accomplishing anything. Instead, a slow, mocking grin spread across his face. “Why? I thought you said she’d be happy to see me?”

“I definitely did not say that,” Sigrid huffed, giving up on pushing Niklaus when her feet started to slip and slide around comically on the smooth temporary flooring beneath them. “Would you please get out of here?” she whined. “There’s gonna be enough screaming without you here antagonizing her. Go. . . plot the murder of more children or something!” Sigrid ordered, gesturing to the still-open front door.

Chuckling smugly, Niklaus brought his hands up in faux surrender and complied.

“Good riddance,” Sigrid grumbled, watching him go. She turned back to her sister, whose skin had returned to its normal pale but peachy hue. Bekah’s fingers spasmed again, and Sigrid knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the vampire woke. “Now that that’s taken care of,” Sigrid said, tilting her head consideringly and crossing her arms. “What to do with you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for waiting patiently for this chapter, and for your lovely comments. As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and let me know what you think!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid tells Rebekah a few home truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Bit of a shorter chapter this week, but this felt like a good stopping point. If I'd kept going in the direction I had planned, we wouldn't have reached another stopping point for quite awhile! Thanks for all the lovely comments, and I hope you enjoy!

Sigrid slapped a blood bag down onto Rebekah’s chest as soon as her sister opened her eyes. The vampire lunged for it immediately, veins rippling across her pale cheeks as she dug her fangs straight into the bag and drained it in seconds. Rebekah sighed in relief once the bag was empty, swiping her tongue over her lower lip to catch the few remaining drops of blood dripping down her chin. Some color was already returning to her face.

Sigrid watched the proceedings from a few feet away, arms crossed and expression carefully blank. Her argument with Niklaus had done wonders for her temper, she could admit grudgingly. She hated fighting with her siblings, but she knew it was better to get things off her chest before they could fester for too long. While Sigrid usually strived to be as emotionally open with her siblings as she could be (Norns only knew someone had to do it), her anger was something she had a tendency to keep to herself until it all came pouring out of her at once. Usually with violent consequences. 

She was working on it, okay? And she was a lot better about it now than she used to be.

All this to say that,  _ this time _ , Sigrid had gotten most of her fury and frustration out of her system before it could boil over into anything particularly dangerous. She was still angry with Rebekah, but now that she was thinking more clearly, Sigrid could look at things from her sister’s perspective. Or attempt to, anyway. 

Despite being the only--surviving--women of their family, Sigrid and Rebekah had very little in common. Like Sigrid, Rebekah loved their family fiercely. But unlike the youngest Mikaelson, Rebekah’s love had always extended outward reachingly, searching for more people to latch on to. Sigrid was content to love her siblings and Jörð, and to care for her few friends to a lesser extent. Her sister wanted more than that. A romantic love to last the ages, maybe even marriage. . . a child. Rebekah yearned for a life outside their family. Or. . .  _ in addition _ to their family, Sigrid should say. 

Rebekah wanted stability,  _ normalcy _ . And while Sigrid could agree with stability, she was honest enough with herself to admit that normalcy was probably beyond their family’s capabilities. 

But Rebekah was stubborn as a mule, and had never been prepared to accept defeat. She wanted something normal, something  _ human.  _ And she had seen Mother’s death as the beginning of the end of their chances for that, and Niklaus’ manipulations and machinations as a constant barrier to her happiness. For years, he had systematically dispatched Rebekah’s lovers in his attempts to keep her close (out of fear, Sigrid knew, that Rebekah would abandon him). And when Rebekah had finally glimpsed the possibility of domestic bliss with Marcellus, that chance--and the man Rebekah had loved more truly than any other--had been snatched from her by Mikael in one fell swoop. Learning that Niklaus had killed Esther and framed Mikael for her death (inadvertently, in Rebekah’s eyes, siccing their father on them in a thousand year chase that had effectively barred all of them from any real chance of stability or security). . . it must have tipped her over the edge.

On an objective level, Sigrid could understand why Rebekah had lashed out, attempting to hurt Niklaus in the one way she knew would hurt him more than anything (though she still didn’t think Rebekah had actually wanted Nik  _ dead _ ). Subjectively. . . Sigrid’s loyalty had always been to her siblings before anyone or anything else. Even her own happiness. She couldn’t imagine  _ wanting _ to hurt--really,  _ truly _ hurt--any of them.

“Sigrid?” Rebekah breathed. The sound broke Sigrid out of her musings, and she glanced at her sister to find her staring, eyes wide and glistening. The sight sent a vicious jolt of affection shooting through Sigrid, the feeling contrasting sharply with the ache of anger and hurt that still surged through her whenever she thought of Rebekah’s actions. “Oh my God!” Rebekah zipped up to Sigrid at a speed to fast for her eyes to follow, a disbelieving smile on her face. For a moment, it looked like Rebekah would reach out for a hug, but something in Sigrid’s expression seemed to stop her. She faltered, smile fading. Sigrid’s heart hurt at being the cause of that look on her sister’s face, but she firmed herself against Rebekah’s wounded baby blues, remembering all the pain and panic she and Nik had felt in the last 48 hours, the look on her brother’s face as Mikael hurled abuse at him, the feeling of her father’s fist plunging through her stomach. . .

Sigrid could practically  _ see _ the moment when Rebekah’s memory of what had been happening before she was daggered--of what she had  _ done _ \--overtook her excitement at seeing Sigrid for the first time in a century. She glanced around a little nervously, taking in the half-renovated house surrounding them, the furniture draped in plastic coverings, the floor protected by drop cloths. “Where--where are we?” Rebekah asked hesitantly. “How long was I daggered?”

Sigrid considered how to answer without giving anything away. She didn’t like deceiving her sister, and she  _ wanted  _ to trust her gut, to believe that after some time to cool off Rebekah would realize she had made a mistake. . . But as much as it hurt to admit, she couldn’t be sure. Not without checking. Not with her family, who all seemed to think brutal retaliation was the only way forward when someone hurt you--even when that person was someone you loved. Maybe even especially then. She wasn’t trying to hurt Rebekah, just--just to make sure. . . “It’s been about two days,” Sigrid began eventually. “The dance--” she paused briefly, looking up to the ceiling as if gathering herself, and hated the way it made Rebekah flinch, “--the dance was last night. I went to retrieve you from the Salvatore Boarding house this morning,” Sigrid said quietly. “This is. . . this is the house Nik bought for us.” She swallowed purposefully, biting her lip and trying not to oversell it. “He wanted us all to live here. . . together.” There, none of that had even been a lie, technically. But Sigrid was pretty unskilled when it came to manipulating her siblings, since she tried not to do it. Elijah and Kol would have seen through her instantly, but Rebekah tended to be a little more. . . trusting, if Sigrid was being charitable. 

Indeed, Rebekah’s eyes widened in a mixture of denial and fear. “And where. . . where is Nik?” she asked, voice wobbling slightly.

Sigrid said nothing. 

Rebekah made a small, pained noise, as if she’d been struck. Her eyes filled with tears, and Sigrid had to look away. “Where is he?” Bekah asked again, tearfully. “Where-- oh no, no, no,” she moaned, turning to look around frantically, as if expecting Niklaus to pop up from behind a plastic-coated chair. “Sigrid, please! Where’s Nik?” Rebekah wept, panicked, and Sigrid cracked. That was proof enough of Rebekah’s remorse for her.

“Out terrorizing the locals, I imagine,” Sigrid admitted finally. “He’s pretty angry with you, but I think he’ll get over it quickly enough. He left a few minutes ago.”

Rebekah sagged in relief, gasping. Tear drops tumbled down her cheeks, and she sat down hard on the table, swiping at them. Sigrid’s chest tightened and she stepped forward, instinctively reaching out to comfort her, but Rebekah slapped her hand away harshly. Sigrid winced, feeling something crunch in her wrist, but figured that was fair enough after the stunt she’d just pulled. 

After a moment, Rebekah pulled herself together enough to look up at Sigrid, eyes and cheeks still glistening with tears. Her expression was tense and anger. “What is  _ wrong _ with you?” she bit out, voice unsteady. 

And just like that, the guilt that had been budding in Sigrid’s chest was overwhelmed by her own frustration and hurt. She raised an incredulous eyebrow, scoffing and recrossing her arms. “What’s wrong with _me?_ ” Sigrid repeated testily. “I think I should be the one asking you that question, Rebekah!”

Bekah stood from her slumped position, visibly working herself up into a lather. Normally, she only had about an inch or so on Sigrid in height, but the heels she’d donned for the dance left her towering over Sigrid’s barefoot form. “You made me think he was dead!” she exclaimed, voice thick.

“Yeah, and  _ you _ actually tried to kill him!” Sigrid snapped, unwilling to be cowed. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I don’t know!” Rebekah shouted hysterically. “Alright? I don’t--” She faltered, blinking rapidly, and deflated, shrinking in on herself. “I don’t know. I just. . .” Rebekah shook her head, trailing off. She wrapped her arms around herself, looking sick at heart, and Sigrid sighed, anger fading. 

They sat in silence for a handful of minutes, avoiding each other’s gaze. 

“I’m just so tired of this,” Rebekah whispered eventually, and Sigrid glanced up at her. “Of. . . looking over my shoulder, waiting for Nik to swoop in and ruin every piece of happiness I find, of finding out he’s hurt me in more ways than I ever even  _ knew _ ,” she confessed, sounding pained. Fresh tears spilled out of her eyes, and this time, when Sigrid reached out to comfort her, Rebekah accepted it. Sigrid crossed to her sister, winding an arm around her bent shoulders and grasping one of Rebekah’s hands in her own. The fractured wrist from earlier still stung, but when Rebekah squeezed her hand, Sigrid ignored the pain. “I don’t want him dead,” Rebekah choked out, tucking her head up next to Sigrid’s, blonde against brunette. “I  _ love  _ him.” She sniffled, wiping at her cheeks. “But I just  _ hate  _ him so  _ much. _ ”

Despite herself, Sigrid chuckled a little, twining a lock of Rebekah’s dirty hair around her finger and tugging on it lightly. “Yeah, that seems to be a common problem in this family. Luckily, the two aren’t mutually exclusive.” When her gentle ribbing failed to produce even the faintest smile, Sigrid changed tactics, sighing gustily. “Look, Beks,” she said. “Obviously this family has a lot of work to do, no one’s denying that. But lashing out, retaliating blindly every time we feel we’ve been hurt or betrayed. . . well, that’s how we’ve been doing things for a thousand years. And clearly it’s not working. So maybe it’s time for a different approach.” Sigrid considered how to put what she was thinking delicately. But Rebekah wasn’t going to like it no matter how she phrased it--and probably neither would any of their brothers once she pitched it to them--so maybe she should just spit it out? “Personally, I’m fond of ‘forgive and forget,’ as a method of dealing with my irritating and murderous siblings.”

There. Like ripping off a band aid. 

“What?” Rebekah shrieked, yanking herself out of Sigrid’s hold. “You want me to just  _ forgive _ that bastard? After everything he’s done?! Sigrid!”

Sigrid put her hands up. “Alright, first of all, relax,” she suggested. “I’m not saying you should just pretend that nothing bad ever happened. Nik has a lot to answer for. That’s clearly not an option,” Sigrid placated, though her words were sincere. “But neither is holding a grudge for every single thing anyone in this family has ever done to hurt you and lashing out at them whenever you get the opportunity. Because newsflash, Rebekah! We’ve all had a thousand years to hurt one another! And Niklaus is far from the only person in this family to have hurt his siblings,” Sigrid pointed out, trying not to let herself get heated. 

“Oh, as if it’s even a fair comparison!” Rebekah snapped. “Nik is so much worse--”

“Maybe to you,” Sigrid interjected, mouth tight. “Maybe Nik  _ has _ hurt you more than anyone else has. But if you were to ask Kol? I’d be willing to bet he’d place you and Elijah  _ both _ right up there next to Niklaus,” she said quietly, trying not to sound accusatory, and Rebekah blanched. In fact, Sigrid  _ knew _ that Kol held a comparable amount of bitterness for all three of them (and she couldn’t honestly say that she blamed him, with the way they constantly disregarded him). It was only directed outward at Nik most frequently because Kol was so frustrated by the fact that Niklaus couldn’t be daggered like the rest of them. “And God only knows Finn will probably be furious with all of us once he wakes up. As for myself. . .” Sigrid said contemplatively. “Elijah has probably hurt me more than Nik has,” she admitted. At least when Niklaus daggered her, she knew it was typically out of fear or pain or anger. It was emotionally driven. And when it wasn’t, he felt guilty about it. When Elijah daggered her, when he daggered  _ anyone _ . . . it was because he was putting whatever facsimile of peace they’d found above Sigrid. Above her happiness, her well-being, her autonomy. It was a calculated decision that put her--or Kol, or Finn, but rarely Rebekah--beneath the rest of the family. Not to mention that fact that Elijah often made her feel stupid and small and foolish. “But I always forgive him,” Sigrid explained quietly. “Because I love him. And I know that if I just stay angry, things will never change.”

“Niklaus killed Mother!” Rebekah cried brokenly, but Sigrid could sense her wavering, so she pressed forward, turning to face Rebekah and recapturing her hands.

“And Mother sat by for more than two  _ decades _ watching Mikael beat our brothers bloody!” Sigrid impressed upon her sister. “Niklaus especially. Mother was a witch!” she said pleadingly, desperate for Rebekah to understand the facts that Sigrid herself had grasped long ago, when her family was still human. “She could have stopped Mikael any time! He stood no chance against her as a human. But she chose to stand aside. She did  _ nothing _ to stop it.” Rebekah shook her head slowly, and Sigrid tightened her grip on her sister’s hands when it seemed she would pull away. And though she could have easily broken Sigrid’s hold, Rebekah stilled. Sigrid took that as a positive sign, and continued. “Healing Nik’s cuts means a lot less when you consider that she could have prevented him from  _ getting  _ the cuts in the first place.”

Sigrid bit her lip, scooting closer to Rebekah on the table until their knees brushed. She kept her eyes on their knotted fingers, remembering the pain she’d felt when she made that realization for herself. Sigrid had been young--10 or 11 at most, and already disillusioned with Mikael--when she’d asked her mother why she never stopped Father from hurting Niklaus.  _ “There’s nothing I can do, darling,” _ Esther had said, sounding sad and angry and scared all at once. 

Sigrid had narrowed her eyes in confusion, trying to recall her mother’s teachings.  _ “But you always say it’s a mother’s job to protect her children. . .” _ Sigrid had said, puzzled.  _ “Why can’t you protect Nik with your magic?” _

_ “I have done all I can for your brother,” _ Mother had said quietly, glancing at Sigrid somewhat sharply out the corner of her eye. Dark brown, like Sigrid’s.  _ “Now, have you finished your chores?” _

Sigrid shook her head. What a load of horse manure. As far as she’d been able to tell, Esther had never done anything at  _ all _ to help Nik (though Sigrid hadn’t had much of a talent for sensing magic prior to her botched transformation, so she couldn’t be sure). If she were feeling generous, Sigrid might admit that Esther’s magical talents had always lain in the realm of ritual magic, and therefore she might have had trouble using her powers to defend her children in the heat of the moment. 

But then again, thinking of Mother’s talent for rituals merely opened up another can of worms. Sigrid grit her teeth, returning to her conversation with Rebekah to press on to her next point. “And then, as a nice little cherry on top, Mother cursed Nik to an eternity of incompleteness,” Sigrid spat, “using a ritual so unnatural that it woke me from a magical coma.” Rebekah shuddered at the mention of the deep sleep Sigrid had fallen into after the immortality spell. She’d been so still and pale that her siblings had thought she would surely succumb to death at any moment, but she had simply laid there for days, unchanging. Until the vile magical backlash from Mother’s ritual had brought Sigrid hurtling into the waking world with a foul taste in her mouth. Sigrid grimaced at the memory of the ritual, and of the strange, painful, half-empty quality Niklaus’ aura had taken on after he was cursed. “And she did her damndest to make sure that curse would be permanent. That Nik would never be able to make another hybrid.” Sigrid looked up, seeking out Rebekah’s gaze. “No one made her do that, Bekah,” she said earnestly. “She  _ chose _ to do that, knowing that Nik would suffer for it.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Sigrid examined her sister, watching her digest Sigrid’s argument (remarkably, Rebekah didn’t seem to have noticed that they were both still covered in dirt from their underground escape). Eventually, Rebekah swallowed, glancing up from her lap to meet Sigrid’s eyes. “She was our Mother,” she whispered. 

Sigrid gave a small nod. “Yes,” she agreed softly. “But let’s not pretend she was a great one.” Sigrid sighed, tipping her head back and pulling her legs up under her on the table. “Nik shouldn’t have lied about it,” Sigrid acknowledged easily, “but I don’t blame him for killing her. And I’m certainly not about to choose a woman who’s been dead a thousand years over my brother,” she affirmed. “I loved Mother, I did. But I love all of you more. No matter what you do.” Sigrid gave Rebekah a nudge. “ _ That’s why _ ,” she said pointedly, “I always forgive you all when you hurt me. . . and when you hurt each other. I’ve tried to forgive myself, as well,” Sigrid professed, smiling a little self-deprecating. “And nothing about it is easy. But if I weren’t the only one doing it. . . I think we could have made peace with one another a long time ago.”

Rebekah stared, an all-too-familiar mixture of fear and longing in her eyes. “I don’t know how you continue to hope for that,” she murmured, shaking her head.

Sigrid wasn’t discouraged. “Mostly because I’ll lose what’s left of my sanity if I stop,” she admitted glibly. “Besides, you can’t fool me, Beks,” Sigrid said lightly, leaning in towards her sister’s face, nearly putting their noses together. Rebekah made a face, pushing her away, and Sigrid laughed. Being a little sister never got old. “We’re all hoping for it, one way or another” she chuckled. “Which is why I know we can get there eventually.” Rebekah still looked disbelieving, but that was okay. Sigrid would stop pushing, for now. She’d planted the seed, and if Sigrid was good at anything, it was helping seeds grow. “Just think about it,” she encouraged with a kind smile.

Sigrid hopped off the table, and turned to face her sister, feeling much better than she had a few short hours ago. She had made up with both Nik and Rebekah and had encouraged them to make up with each other. For now, that was all she could do for her family. Until she found the others, at least. “That’s enough of that!” Sigrid announced. “I’m declaring a girls’ night, me and you, effective immediately. I’m in desperate need of a distraction.” Rage for Stefan Salvatore was still bubbling at the back of her mind, but Sigrid had gotten most of her anger out of her system, and was no longer in danger of hurting anyone by accident. If she flattened Stefan the next time she saw him, it would be completely intentional, and therefore controlled! Excellent. Still, since there was currently nothing she could do for her daggered siblings, spending some time with one of her  _ undaggered _ ones would hopefully be the perfect diversion. 

Rebekah was hilarious when she was drunk.

“What do you need distracting from?” the blonde in question asked, confused.

Sigrid smirked turning around to head upstairs towards the one fully-operational bathroom in the house. “Oh that’s right, you don’t know,” she said over her shoulder, only slightly pettily. “That little stunt with Mikael last night gave Stefan Salvatore the opportunity to steal the coffins containing our siblings’ temporarily-dead bodies and spirit them away to a place neither Nik nor myself have been able to locate.” Saying it out loud made Sigrid’s smile tighten, but she refused to lose her grip on her good mood. Norns, she really  _ did _ need a distraction. Then, as Rebekah was spluttering in shock behind her, Sigrid tacked on, “Oh, and you’re probably going to want to clean up pretty thoroughly before we go anywhere. Who knows the places dirt might have ended up. God knows your hair is completely coated.”

“What are you--Oh my God!” Rebekah screeched, finally noticing that she was covered in dirt from head to toe. Truly, it spoke to her emotional state that she hadn’t realized until just now. “What did you do, roll my body around the garden?!”

Sigrid grinned, speeding up slightly. “Pretty much, yeah,” she teased, briskly ascending the stairs before Rebekah could collect herself enough to chase after her. “What, you don’t like it?”

Rebekah shrieked abruptly. “There’s a  _ worm!  _ Oh my God  _ there’s a worm in my hair! SIGRID!” _

Sigrid cackled, racing towards the bathroom. 

This was much better than being angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheesh, Rebekah is hard to write.
> 
> Not exactly an action-packed chapter, but this conversation is an important step for Sigrid's goal of forcing her family to talk about their feelings and work things out (no one but her is enthusiastic about this plan). In other news, part of the reason Sigrid is so eager for her family *coughElijahcough* to wake up is so that she can stop having to be the adult in her sibling relationships and go back to being baby.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The emotional fallout of Mikael's attack continues, and a couple of plans come together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying safe in this summer surge. I know it's irritating and uncomfortable, but please wear a mask and practice social distancing when possible. Your comfort is not more important than yours or someone else's life.
> 
> With this chapter (which is another long one), ME(PFM) officially passes 50,000 words and 100 pages in Doc form! Thank you guys so much for all your support!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: More lesbian stuff, but nothing more explicit than e m o t i o n s. A little bit of gore at the end.

Girls’ night had been a resounding success. True, Sigrid and Rebekah had needed to drive about an hour out of Mystic Falls to find a place with enough bars and clubs for a decent pub crawl. But once they’d gotten there. . . oh boy. 

And once Rebekah had started in on the tequila shots, all bets were off.

Brandon Harris was never going to forget his bachelor party, that was for sure. Sigrid hoped he recovered in time for the wedding. 

Sigrid pushed the doors to their hotel room balcony open as quietly as she could, glancing over her shoulder at her sister’s softly snoring form. Rebekah was completely passed out, sprawled over their king-sized bed like a starfish, hair mussed and make up smeared. Her clothes were scattered across the room. One of her pointy heels had wedged itself into the drywall stiletto first when she’d kicked it off upon entering the hotel suite. 

In comparison, Sigrid still looked fairly fresh. She was still fully-clothed, for one, with her hair only slightly rumpled. Though, she’d started the night off in a pair of strappy, glittering sandals, hadn’t she? . . . Norns only knew where they were now. Sigrid was pretty sure she’d lost them before they even made it to the third bar. Oh well. She glanced at Rebekah again. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too mad. Those had been Rebekah’s shoes, after all. Sigrid had only worn them because her sister insisted, and had only narrowly escaped being forced into a pair of heels.

Then again, given the amount of alcohol they’d consumed, Rebekah might not even remember the shoes, let alone the details of the evening. Vampires couldn’t usually get hangovers--or at least not ones that lasted long--but with the sheer amount of vodka and tequila that had gone down Rebekah’s throat in only a few hours. . . Sigrid wouldn’t be surprised if her sister woke up feeling fairly miserable. If only for a little while. 

Sigrid, of course, felt perfectly fine already. She’d drunk nearly as much as Rebekah, but Sigrid metabolized alcohol--and everything else, really--differently than any other species she’d ever encountered. She had to drink frankly ridiculous amounts of booze to even get buzzed, and the effects wore off rather quickly. This meant that, unlike the rest of her family, Sigrid wasn’t much of a casual drinker. Most people didn’t drink alcohol for the taste, after all. And while the positives of her extreme alcohol tolerance generally outweighed the negatives, Sigrid couldn’t deny that there were moments in life when one simply wanted to get absolutely sloshed, and it was a shame when one couldn’t.

Trying to distract yourself from the fact that your helpless family had been coffin-napped by a revenge-driven, emotionless baby vampire was one of those moments. 

Sigrid sighed, pulling the balcony door shut behind her as she stepped outside into the cool night air. Clubbing with Rebekah had been nice. Sigrid didn’t love parties or particularly thrive in social situations like most of her siblings did. She and Finn had that in common. But she had forgotten how much she enjoyed the occasional tear through town with her sister by her side. 

Usually, Kol would have come with them too. 

Sigrid crossed her arms loosely on the railing of the balcony, resting her weight on her elbows. It was somewhere around two a.m. and the darkness was thick and heavy. But the night sky was clear overhead, and she turned her face towards the stars, tracing constellations with umber eyes. The wind caressed Sigrid’s face gently, tugging wisps of hair free from the half up, half down monstrosity of a hairdo Rebekah had wrangled her locks into, and stroking gently down her cheeks and the back of her neck. 

“Hello, sunflower,” a beloved voice greeted quietly. Not particularly startled, Sigrid turned her head and found Jörð lounging at her side as if she had been there the entire time. 

Here on the material plane, Jörð took on a few properties of the natural world around her. In the deep night, her skin and hair were both a few shades darker than normal, nearly blending in with the impenetrable dark surrounding them. Though Sigrid had impeccable night vision, the edges of Jörð’s shape--as towering and immense as ever--seemed somehow blurred. It was difficult to tell where she ended and the night air began. 

But then, they were one and the same, really.

“Hello,” Sigrid returned easily. As always, Jörð’s presence settled something in Sigrid that she hadn’t even realized was riled. She conjured a smile for her friend, though it felt rather meager. 

Jörð turned so that she mirrored Sigrid’s posture, partially draped over the railing. She had to stoop much lower than Sigrid did to accomplish this, but she also kept her feet level with Sigrid’s, in the same position. The result was that she ended up bent at a nearly 90 degree angle, her arse stuck out awkwardly. Sigrid admired it for a moment (only because she knew Jörð wouldn’t mind), but had to admit that the pose was more comical than it was sexy. She snorted helplessly. Jörð didn’t even look that uncomfortable. “Stop that,” Sigrid chuckled. “You look ridiculous.”

“Ah, but you are in much better spirits now than you were a moment ago,” Jörð observed, wiggling her butt teasingly even as her face remained relatively placid. Her eyes--nearly silver and reflecting moonlight--glinted humorously, giving her away. “It’s nice to see you smile after your rage has reverberated through the skies and the air for so many days,” she admitted. “I know you don’t like feeling so angry.”

The thunderstorms. Right. Sigrid rubbed the back of her head a bit sheepishly. It wasn’t often that she lost control of herself these days. She hoped Jörð hadn’t been too worried. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Jörð countered. She straightened back up to her usual Amazonian height and regarded Sigrid seriously. “The heavens crack open upon your command. That is something. . . breathtaking.”

This struck Sigrid as a rather odd thing for Mother Nature herself to say. Jörð could shape entire ecosystems, could change the direction of the tides, could call forth hurricanes on a whim. Why should Sigrid’s comparatively measly powers be impressive to her? “Even to you?” she prodded skeptically.

Jörð tilted her head, luminous eyes boring into Sigrid’s. “Especially to me,” she professed, reaching up to tuck an escaped strand of Sigrid’s hair back into the mass of braids piled on top of her head. Sigrid shivered in pleasure, the enormity of Jörð’s attention and aura washing over her like cool water carrying an electric shock. She blushed, and knew it was too much to hope that Jörð couldn’t see it perfectly. Sigrid turned away, and Jörð allowed it with a small, pleased smile.

They fell into a comfortable silence that lasted several minutes. Eventually, however, Sigrid’s thoughts drifted back to the events of the last couple of days, and her concern for her kidnapped brothers. 

They were still in (or near) town, Sigrid was certain of that much. The time between Stefan being released from his compulsion and Stefan calling Nik to gloat about stealing the coffins was too short for him to have managed to make it very far. Now, Sigrid  _ had _ been dead for another couple of hours after the phone call, and by the time she woke up, her siblings had been cloaked. It was possible Stefan had traveled further in that time, found a witch to do a cloaking spell a few hours out of town. But Stefan Salvatore (who, by all accounts, hadn’t known about werewolves or the Originals or the so-called curse of the Sun and the Moon until they’d been shoved directly into his smug little face, despite all of those things being fairly commonplace bits of knowledge in supernatural circles) didn’t strike Sigrid as the type to have many--or any--powerful witch contacts.

So. Bonnie Bennett it was. But where would she have hidden them?

Sigrid groaned in frustration, leaning down to thunk her head against her crossed arms. She didn’t know enough about the town to know where the best hiding places were, but she  _ did _ know enough to realize that there were probably a number of them. Bonnie would need a magically-powerful spot in order to effectively conceal Sigrid’s siblings from her, but Mystic Falls had a long and rich supernatural history. There were dozens of hot-spots across town and in the forest, and even if Sigrid checked each and every one, there was no guarantee that she’d be able to perceive her family’s presence--even if they were right in front of her.

Jörð dropped a hand lightly onto the back of Sigrid’s head, startling her out of her thoughts. Mother Earth dug her fingers under and between the braids at Sigrid’s crown, scratching and massaging her scalp. Sigrid groaned again, this time in pleasure, as Jörð’s ministrations traveled over her head, neck, and shoulders. Tension flooded out of her in waves, unable to remain in the face of Jörð’s tenderness. Her aura smoothed over Sigrid’s, soothing her, and Sigrid sighed quietly, practically purring. “Thanks,” she muttered into her arms.

“It is my pleasure,” Jörð said sincerely, twirling her long, dextrous fingers through the wispy hairs at the base of Sigrid’s skull. “I know you must be very worried, my love.”

It didn’t surprise Sigrid to hear that Jörð knew what had been going on in Mystic Falls. Jörð often kept an eye on Sigrid, even when she was busy with other things, like trying to stop the polar ice caps from melting. And given that Jörð had told Sigrid that Mikael’s death would set her family on a path that could shape the future of the supernatural world. . . well, Sigrid was even  _ less _ surprised than usual to find Jörð devoting some of her attention to the Mikaelson family.

“I don’t suppose you can offer any insight as to where they are?” Sigrid asked, turning to look up towards Jörð, leaving her cheek pressed against her arms instead of her forehead. Jörð’s fingers, which had been at Sigrid’s neck, remained hovering in the same spot as Sigrid moved, and they settled against her jawline when she stilled once more. 

Jörð paused for a moment, but eventually shook her head, looking pained. “I’m sorry, sunflower,” she whispered, voice as low and sorrowful as the crooning of a mourning dove. “I’m . . . I’m too  _ large _ for such things. If I could. . .”

“It’s okay,” Sigrid assured, reaching up to tangle her own fingers with Jörð’s and giving them a squeeze. “I get it.”

And really, she did. Sigrid was also “too large” for a lot of magic. But even she wasn’t as large as Jörð.

Jörð, like Sigrid, wasn’t anything even close to a witch. Most witches may have gotten their magic via a connection to the earth, but that didn’t make Jörð capable of  _ magic _ any more than Sigrid was. In fact, it made her rather  _ less _ capable of magic than Sigrid was. Jörð was just a giant sentient block of power, basically. She  _ was _ nature. Literally. She didn’t need to channel it, or manipulate it. She  _ was _ it. Therefore, in her scope as Mother Earth, Jörð was equally capable of overwhelming strength and careful control. She could just as easily summon a typhoon as she could handcraft a new species of butterfly, just like a person could move either their entire body or a single finger. 

But magic was a lot. . . smaller than nature, Sigrid supposed you could say. Narrower, somehow, even though it could be used for a wider array of purposes. It was difficult to explain, if you couldn’t feel it first hand. And since magic was so small, and Jörð so very large, the only way she could interact with a spell was by powering it. . . or obliterating it. Battery or sledgehammer

If one imagined a sliding scale of power over magic and natural energy, humans would be at one end, Jörð at the other. Witches, even the most powerful of them, fell closer to the human end of the spectrum. Most of them couldn’t manipulate natural energy directly. Even when they used spells that directly affected nature, they were still  _ using spells _ to do it. Typically, natural energy flowed into witches without their conscious knowledge and was converted into the ability to do magic. They then reached within themselves--even when channeling nature directly--to perform spells or rituals. The end result might have  _ looked _ the same when a witch summoned a storm vs when Sigrid did it, but the actual mechanism was very different. 

Sigrid fell closer on the spectrum to Jörð than she did humans or witches. While she also had an internal reserve of power, it was composed of raw, unfiltered natural energy, which she absorbed from the world around her. And to perform her own wondrous feats, Sigrid could either use that stored natural energy, or she could reach out and directly manipulate the energy of the wind, or the trees, or the earth. Et cetera. Unlike witches, she didn’t  _ need _ to bring power into herself to use it. Usually, she used her own store of energy when doing things like encouraging plants to grow, but reached out to external sources of natural energy when doing things like manipulating the weather or starting fires. And more different still, Sigrid could actually also  _ reverse _ the process of absorbing natural energy into herself if she wanted to, allowing herself to spread outward and  _ be absorbed _ by her natural surroundings. This was how she became one with the wind, or the earth, or the sea. 

But no matter how powerful Sigrid was, she’d never reach even a fraction of Jörð’s strength. How could she? Jörð was. . . literally the entire world. Sigrid could move parts of her around, but it was the difference between carrying someone and that same person walking under their own power. One was inherently easier than the other.

So no. Sigrid wasn’t surprised or upset that Jörð couldn’t help her find her family. 

That didn’t mean she wasn’t a little disappointed. Jörð’s assistance would have made things a lot easier. And Sigrid was eager to see her brothers again.

“I really am sorry, sweetheart,” Jörð repeated, looking rather wilted. 

Sigrid straightened from her slumped position and reached up to pat Jörð’s face somewhat irreverently. She looked thrilled with the contact, kind of like a puppy. “You don’t have to apologize,” Sigrid said. She placed a hand on the railing and vaulted up onto it in a single smooth movement, settling with her legs swinging in the open air. The balcony was on the third floor of the hotel, facing out over a well-kept lawn which backed up to a small forest, clearly marked with a number of hiking trails. Sigrid took a moment to enjoy the feeling of the crisp autumn breeze brushing against her bare legs and feet, and to admire the sight of the trees swaying in the distance. The leaves rustled softly in the wind, the very tips of them just starting to turn yellow. Soundlessly, Jörð sat beside her, facing Sigrid and straddling the railing. “Thank you, by the way,” Sigrid said after a few minutes of silence, glancing at her companion and smiling a little. “For coming. I. . . really do appreciate it,” she confessed tightly. She cleared her throat.

Jörð examined her for a moment, expression inscrutable. “Oh, sunflower,” she murmured eventually, voice desperately tender, eyes immeasurably soft. “You really have had a rough couple of days, haven’t you?”

And Sigrid was gone. She hadn’t even realized that tears had been sneaking up on her. They welled up in her eyes without her notice or her permission, and before she knew it they were cascading down her face. Her breathing hitched helplessly, and Jörð reached out without hesitation, wrapping her arms around Sigrid and pulling her into the cradle of her thighs. Sigrid fit perfectly against her, head nestled carefully beneath Jörð’s chin. She pressed her face into the hollow of Jörð’s throat and wept. 

Nik had daggered Sigrid. Killed her. Left her to suffer the pain of silver in her chest for two weeks, and acted like it didn’t matter at all. Rebekah had lashed out at and betrayed both Niklaus and Sigrid herself. Had decided that her own pain was more important than a thousand years of love, however poorly expressed. And Mikael had attacked, had torn at Niklaus and Sigrid both. Had died, ending a millennia of pain and fear, but leaving it completely unresolved. Stefan Salvatore had sought revenge, striking at the most vulnerable members of their family.

And Sigrid had been left to pick up the pieces. To come up with a plan, to comfort Nik and confront Rebekah, to assure her brother and sister that she still loved them, even though she was furious with them, even though they should have  _ known already _ that there wasn’t a damned thing they could do to make her hate them. She was left, as always, to do the emotional labor her siblings were incapable of completing without help. Nevermind that  Sigrid was angry, that she was hurt, that she was  _ afraid _ . Nevermind that her brain felt like it was spinning in her skull, that her face was tight with her own repressed emotions. Nevermind that she missed Elijah more than she ever had before, that she wanted nothing more than for someone else to come and take control, to take  _ care _ of things. Of her. 

Nevermind that she couldn’t express any of this, because God only knew how her family would react. 

So yes. Sigrid wept. Quietly, because some habits were hard to break.

“It hurts,” Sigrid cried, shaking uncontrollably. She curled desperately closer to Jörð--despite the voice at the back of her mind warning her away, reminding her not to take advantage of Jörð’s affection--and spilled tears all over her collarbones, her slender neck, her perfect jawline. “It  _ hurts _ .”

Jörð wrapped her arms tighter around Sigrid’s body, pulling her impossibly closer. “I know, sweetheart. I know. And if I didn’t  _ also _ know that it is your family whom you love that has caused you this pain, I would be sorely tempted to seek retribution,” she said somewhat darkly.

Sigrid choked out a startled laugh. Normally, even a nominal threat toward her family would be enough to raise Sigrid’s hackles. But she knew that Jörð would never  _ actually _ hurt her siblings, even if only because doing so would hurt and alienate Sigrid. Besides, for all that she would--and already had, to some extent--forgive Niklaus and Rebekah for their roles in her pain. . . it was nice to have someone who was firmly on her side. Still. . . “Please don’t,” she muttered tearily into Jörð’s shoulder, just to be safe. Mother Earth had a very poor understanding of social cues, so it was good to clarify these things for her. But threats of bodily harm aside, the brief moment of levity had done its job, and Sigrid’s tears began to--slowly--subside. Abruptly, she realized that she was smearing saltwater and snot all over Jörð. “Oh, Norns, I’m sorry,” she meeped, flushing with embarrassment and attempting to pull her leaky face away from her friend ( _ more than a friend, _ something in her whispered seditiously, and Sigrid shoved it down forcefully), but Jörð tugged her back with an unrelenting, infinitely gentle grip on the back of her neck.

“I don’t mind,” Jörð insisted, admirably disregarding the fluids still trickling out of Sigrid’s eyes and nose. “Whatever you need, you will have.” She hesitated briefly, then pressed a tender, lingering kiss to the crown of Sigrid’s head. 

Sigrid knew she should move, that she should draw the line here, that she should remind Jörð they couldn't be together right now. Not while things were still. . . like this. Instead, she let out a shuddering sigh, and relaxed into Jörð’s arms. It was just a hug, Sigrid told herself. She deserved it, after the week she’d had. She was allowed to get a little comfort from the one person in the world she knew for  _ sure _ loved her more than anyone else. It didn’t have to mean anything. 

Yeah, she wasn’t fooling herself, either.

“It’ll be alright, sunflower,” Jörð said simply after a long moment of quiet. The words should have been trite, a meaningless, useless platitude. They should have done nothing at all to reassure Sigrid. But when Jörð spoke, Sigrid had no choice but to listen. And for all that her voice was soft and soothing, Jörð left no room for disagreement. Things  _ would _ be alright. There was no other option. 

Whether Jörð had been referring to Sigrid’s family problems or to the issue of their own relationship, Sigrid wasn’t sure. But either way. . . Sigrid couldn’t help but believe her.

Once Sigrid had calmed down almost completely, Jörð herself broke their embrace. She pulled back, cupping Sigrid’s face between her immense palms and ducking down to examine her bloodshot eyes. She smiled wondrously, her own eyes glittering like the stars. “Beautiful,” Jörð murmured, tracing Sigrid’s face. Sigrid looked up at her, and couldn’t help but agree. 

“Now,” Jörð continued decisively, swiping the wetness on Sigrid’s cheeks away with her thumbs. “Why don’t you tell me everything you know about this ‘Stefan Salvatore’ and where he might have taken your family. I might not be able to help you break the spell keeping them hidden, but I don’t see why we can’t work out a couple of ideas between the two of us.” Jörð grinned, sharklike. “What do you say, sunflower? Let’s you and I find a way to make this boy wish he was never born.”

And slowly, Sigrid’s lips stretched to match Jörð’s in a terrifying smile, dimples on full display.

* * *

Early afternoon the next day saw Sigrid and Rebekah hurtling down country roads on their way back to Mystic Falls. Sigrid had held out and let Rebekah sleep in for as long as she could, but when 11 a.m. had come and gone and her sister hadn’t so much as stirred--even with gentle prodding--Sigrid had put her foot down. She was an early riser, and didn’t like burning daylight. 

Besides, she and Jörð had concocted a few plans to make Stefan miserable, and Sigrid was eager to put one of them in particular into action.

In the passenger seat, Rebekah grumbled in irritation as Sigrid ran over yet another pothole. She’d been rather grumpy ever since Sigrid had woken her up by dumping the contents of the hotel room’s ice bucket down the back of her dress. Sigrid couldn’t imagine why.

(If she was going to be such a stinker about it, then she should have just woken up the first time Sigrid had shaken her.)

And yeah, maybe Sigrid wasn’t exactly the best driver--she was rarely behind the wheel of a car, after all--but Rebekah had still been far too groggy and addled to drive when they had left the hotel. Rebekah might have been able to walk off a car crash easily enough, but Sigrid would have been down for the count if her sister had totaled the car in a quasi-hungover stupor. And just because she was recovered now didn’t mean Rebekah got to be a backseat driver.

They were almost there anyway.

“You seem better,” Rebekah said suddenly, speaking a little loudly so Sigrid could hear her better over the roar of wind through the open windows. 

Sigrid glanced at her, but kept most of her attention devoted to the road. “What do you mean?” she asked at a normal volume. Rebekah would be able to hear her even if she whispered. 

“Just. . . you seemed upset yesterday,” Rebekah said, and it sounded somehow like she was admitting something. She fiddled a little nervously with her fingers.

Sigrid remembered how they had screamed at each other in Nik’s living room the previous afternoon, and shot Rebekah an incredulous look. “You don’t say,” she deadpanned. 

Rebekah whacked Sigrid’s arm lightly, scoffing. “That’s not what I meant,” she scolded. “Obviously. . . Obviously you were angry about that,” she said, losing a little steam. “I just meant--even after that, after we. . . worked things out,” here she glanced over at Sigrid, seemingly unsure whether or not they  _ had _ really worked things out (Sigrid wasn’t 100% sure either, but knew they’d get there eventually), but she pressed on, saying, “you still seemed. . . off. Like you weren’t as happy as you were pretending to be.” When Sigrid’s eyebrows rose a little in surprise, Rebekah scowled. “Give me a little credit,” she snapped. “I’ve only been your sister for a thousand years.”

Sigrid could think of nothing to say to that. All their years of experience with one another rarely aided Sigrid’s siblings in their emotional sensitivity towards each other, or towards her. Though she supposed Rebekah had always been more emotionally aware than their brothers, even if she wasn’t always very mature. 

They whizzed over Wickery Bridge and past the sign signaling their entrance to Mystic Falls, and Sigrid slowed down. Normally, Rebekah would be able to compel any cop who tried to pull them over, but Sigrid was pretty sure most of the police force here was on vervain. If they were stopped, things might get messy. Better safe than bloody, Sigrid always (usually) said.

“Sigrid,” Rebekah recaptured her attention, voice suddenly hesitant. It was such a contrast to her earlier irritation that Sigrid couldn’t help but look to her sister rather sharply to see if something was wrong. Rebekah didn’t seem to want to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said eventually, a little quietly. “For. . . for what happened with Father.” Rebekah shifted, and seemed to firm herself. She brought her eyes up from her lap to meet Sigrid’s head on. “For working with him. I’m sorry,” Rebekah repeated, visibly ashamed. Her baby blues looked about ready to well up. “I really do regret it.”

Something in Sigrid warmed even as her fingers tightened uncontrollably around the steering wheel. It. . . was good of Rebekah to say that, but. . . “I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” Sigrid said, returning her eyes to the road. 

“Yes you are!” Rebekah said adamantly, reaching out to tangle her fingers with Sigrid’s insistently. “I mean obviously. . . obviously I need to talk to Nik as well,” she admitted sourly, and Sigrid snorted, noticing that Rebekah pointedly didn’t say that she was also going to  _ apologize _ to Niklaus. “But I hurt you too. I know how scared of Mikael you are. Were,” she corrected, looking as startled at the necessity of the tense change as Sigrid felt. Rebekah shook her head, blonde curls bouncing, and moved on. “And you had to fight him because of me. I know you and Nik never would have believed Stefan and Elena if it weren’t for me. And even though I didn’t know Nik would wake you up to help him, I’m still--” her voice faltered, but she bit her lip and moved on, “--I’m so,  _ so _ sorry. I never wanted to hurt you,” Rebekah swore ardently. Tears finally spilled over her cheeks, and she reached up to swipe at them irritably. Rebekah had always been an easy crier. She cried when she was angry, when she was sad, when she felt guilty. This had always frustrated her. She thought it made her seem weak, that no one would take her seriously when her face was wet with tears. The latter was--unfortunately--probably true, but Sigrid wished that her sister, and everyone else, would realize that her emotions made her strong, not weak. “You’re my little sister,” Bekah whispered, the hand that wasn’t holding Sigrid’s clenching into a tight fist. “But I’ve never been very good at protecting you.” Sigrid’s heart sank. Oh, Beks. “Instead I--” Rebekah cut herself off, breath hitching with the beginning of a sob. She swallowed it heavily, and inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you,” she said again, plaintive, and settled into an uneasy silence. 

Heart in her throat, Sigrid pulled into the driveway of Nik’s house on the outskirts of town, and gave Rebekah a moment to collect herself before she spoke. She put the car in park and pulled the keys out the ignition, turning bodily in her seat to face her sister. It was a little awkward, but Sigrid was slender enough to pull it off. She didn’t want Rebekah to think she wasn’t accepting her apology, but she had a couple of things to say. They’d be best delivered with eye contact. “You never wanted to hurt  _ me _ ,” Sigrid echoed pointedly, then let the implication sit for a second. Rebekah looked away, and nodded jerkily in confirmation. Sigrid sighed softly. “I’ve already said my piece on the situation between you and Niklaus,” she said. “So I guess all I’ll add is that I love you both, and seeing you hurt each other  _ does _ hurt me.” Rebekah flinched, and Sigrid reached out to squeeze her hand.

“Beyond that. . .” Sigrid continued, considering how to phrase this. After the easy conversation and understanding with Jörð last night, it was jarring to have to explain herself. Jörð would have just. . . known. “Well, I’m perfectly willing to accept your apology, of course. I believe that you didn’t want to hurt me, and I believe that you’re sorry that you did. But I hope you realize that. . . having to fight Mikael? That wasn’t what hurt me,” she expressed, leaning forward. Her hip dug painfully into the gear shift, but Sigrid ignored it. “I would have fought Mikael a thousand times if I had to, no matter how scared I was. And if Nik hadn’t woken me up to help, if I didn’t know what happened until it was already over and done with. . . I still would have felt hurt,” Sigrid explained gingerly. “Because what really hurt me was the fact that you did this in the first place.” She paused. “Do you. . . get that?” she asked awkwardly. 

So she wasn’t used to her siblings apologizing. Sue her. It didn’t happen that often.

Remarkably, Rebekah snorted, still sniffling a little. “Yeah,” she chuckled a bit self-deprecatingly. “I think I do.” She let out a sigh of her own, rubbing her eyes. “And I am sorry for that. But I don’t think I’m sorry for wanting to hurt Nik. Just. . . for how I did it.”

Sigrid remembered Rebekah’s panic when she had thought Niklaus was dead. She might still want to hurt him, but Bekah knew now that she didn’t want him to die. That was good enough, for this family. “Fair enough,” Sigrid smiled.

And, as if on cue, she and Rebekah leaned forward in the same instant, wrapping their arms around each other. “Forgive me?” Bekah murmured into Sigrid’s neck. It seemed like she was trying to sound teasing, but mostly she came off as a bit desperate for reassurance.

Sigrid heaved an exaggerated sigh. “If I must,” she capitulated jokingly. Rebekah relaxed, likely taking it as confirmation, but Sigrid had chosen that phrasing precisely because she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to forgive yet. At least not completely. Thinking about how she’d felt over the past couple of days, how she’d felt  _ last night _ . . . well, it wasn’t great. But she would forgive both Rebekah and Niklaus eventually, probably sooner rather than later. And any lingering hurt or hard feelings on Sigrid’s part would likely be washed away whenever Bekah and Nik made up, or whenever they found their missing siblings--whichever came first--since if either of those things happened, Sigrid would be way too happy to hold anything even resembling a grudge.

Suddenly, Rebekah stiffened in Sigrid’s arms, sucking in a sharp breath. “Stefan’s here,” she blurted, pulling back abruptly to look at Sigrid, wide-eyed. “He’s in the house, talking to Nik. He actually had the bloody balls to come  _ here, _ ” she said, sounding somewhere between impressed and furious.

Sigrid spared one singular second to be amazed at Stefan’s stupidity before she jumped into action. It seemed like she’d be able to bring at least one plan to fruition earlier and easier than she’d expected. Sigrid had thought she’d have to kidnap Damon before she’d be able to get access to Stefan, since he was spending so much time hiding behind whatever spell was protecting the coffins. But if Stefan wanted to deliver himself into their hands, Sigrid certainly wasn’t going to complain. Without so much as saying a word, she leapt out of the car and flew--almost literally, as her feet only touched the ground twice between the car and the front door--into the house at an inhuman pace, Rebekah at her side. 

Nik’s voice was drifting into the foyer from the living room, filled with the sort of false calm that told Sigrid he was very close to losing his patience. “. . . I get a little moody,” he was saying. “Just ask my siblings. Speaking of whom,” Niklaus added brightly, sounding admirably blasé. “Isn't it time you handed them over?”

“Klaus,” Stefan began, obviously trying to sound threatening, and Sigrid’s carefully controlled rage--which had been simmering at the edge of her mind ever since the word “Stefan” had left Rebekah’s lips--surged to new and impressive heights, though she didn’t allow it to escape outward into the air or the sky as it wished to do. “Get your hybrids out of Mystic Falls or I--”

What, exactly, Stefan was going to do, the world would never know. For at that moment, Sigrid rounded the corner into the living room, took stock of Stefan and Nik’s positions, and summarily thrust a hand upward in Stefan’s direction. The hardwood floor beneath their feet groaned and twisted, warping and merging into a wooden spike as thick around as Sigrid’s thigh. It was more like a small tree, really, since as soon as Sigrid’s energy touched it, the wood returned to its natural state--rough bark and small, protruding branches included. 

And with nothing short of  _ extreme _ prejudice, Sigrid forced this small tree up and through Stefan’s gut.

Stefan let out an absolutely wretched cry, but Sigrid was utterly unmoved, and far from done. Careful not to pierce his heart, Sigrid encouraged the tree to keep growing upwards and at an angle even after it had skewered the irritating vampire, until it extended at least a couple of feet out of Stefan’s back. With the tree still rooted in the floor, and piercing his abdomen at a near 45 degree angle, Stefan wouldn’t be able to remove the spike--or, indeed, remove himself  _ from _ the spike--without tearing it out sideways  _ through _ the rest of his body.

There was a single moment of stunned silence from Sigrid’s siblings before Nik sighed. “We just got those floors done, you know,” he said, sounding put upon.

“Oops,” Sigrid said cheerfully, stalking across the room to the Stefan-kebab. Ignoring his pathetic gurgling and thrashing--as well as the blood and viscera that was pouring out of his wound and his mouth, hitting the floor with some truly disgusting noises--Sigrid reached up to grip Stefan’s chin and turn his face harshly downwards to meet hers. “You know, I’ve met a lot of people in my life,” she said conversationally, “but I’m not sure if any of them have been quite as arrogant as you are. Or, alternatively, perhaps you’re just the stupidest,” Sigrid offered. “Now  _ that _ would truly be impressive.” Stefan batted weakly at her hand, trying to slap it away, but he was already so weak from blood loss that it had no effect on even Sigrid, who had no super strength to speak of. “What an inflated sense of importance you must have,” Sigrid mused, tugging Stefan further down towards her so she could examine his face more closely. He groaned in protest, and Sigrid tightened her grip, expression perfectly blank and calm. “I’m a thousand years old,” she said. “I’ve seen kingdoms, empires, and civilizations begin and end. I’ve witnessed every innovation and every failure, every progression and regression of the past millennium. I have leveled cities in defense of the people I love,” Sigrid murmured softly, bringing her face as close to Stefan’s as she could and smoothing her thumbs over his cheeks almost gently. “I was here long before you, and I will be here  _ long _ after you.” Her face suddenly twisted into a violent sneer, and she squeezed Stefan’s jaw hard enough that he winced, but when she spoke her voice was still completely level. “So just what do you think something like  _ you _ looks like to something like  _ me _ ?”

Oddly enough, choking on his own blood and intestines as he was, Stefan offered no answer.

“An ant?” Nik suggested, sounding horribly amused, and also somehow fond. When Sigrid turned to look, she found both him and Rebekah looking some measure of impressed and delighted. It probably said something not-great about their family’s own personal brand of psychosis, but Sigrid was just happy to see them agreeing about something. 

“More like a protozoa,” Sigrid countered dryly, and--as if to prove her point--when she turned back to Stefan, she found that he had succumbed to his wound. He’d be awake again in an hour or so, probably, but in the meantime. . . Sigrid dug into his jacket pocket and extracted his cell phone. “You know, it was awfully considerate of Stefan to just. . . hand himself over to us like this,” she said casually, thumbing through his contact list. She found the one she was looking for and copied it into her own phone. “This way, you guys can bleed him of vervain nice and easy.” Sigrid glanced back at the amount of Stefan’s blood already outside of his body and hummed. “Though, he’s probably getting there already. Still, you guys can finish the job once he wakes up.” She looked up from her phone to grin at her brother and sister. “Maybe you can bond over the experience,” she proposed lightly. “Work out some of your frustrations towards each other on dear Stefan here.” Sigrid nudged his body lightly with her foot, then crossed back towards her siblings.

Rebekah looked torn between her desire to torture Stefan and her complete lack of desire to spend any amount of time with Nik. But Niklaus, true to his nature, seemed much more enthusiastic at the prospect. “Excellent idea, sister,” he lauded. “Then we can simply compel Stefan to tell us where the coffins are. . . and maybe a couple more compulsions wouldn’t go amiss, while we’re at it.” He smiled devilishly. 

Sigrid tilted a hand back and forth in a so-so type motion. “Yes and no,” she allowed. “You can compel him to tell us where the coffins are, but knowing where they are might not be enough to break the spell, if it’s on the coffins themselves and not the location,” she explained. “And since Stefan isn’t a witch and didn’t cast the spell, there’s nothing he can do about that, compelled or otherwise.” Rebekah’s face crumpled, and Niklaus began to look newly murderous, so Sigrid hurried to continue. “But! Not to worry. Stefan is horribly predictable, which means,” she said, pulling out her phone and punching in the number she’d snagged from Stefan’s contacts, “that we know exactly who  _ can _ do something about it,” Sigrid finished, turning her phone around triumphantly and displaying a newly-created contact to her siblings. Their faces cleared with understanding, and Nik’s smirk returned. Sigrid pressed “call,” and waited.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Four ti--

_ “Hello? This is Bonnie Bennett speaking, who is this?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been planning that ending scene with Stefan since I first thought of this fic. Also, this chapter was going to be shorter, but Rebekah demanded to apologize to Sigrid, and I couldn't say no.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid opens up negotiations, and enacts and unusual sort of revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long AN (I hate them), but I want to explain some things. YOU CAN SKIP THIS IF YOU DON'T NEED/WANT A Jörð EXPLANATION!
> 
> Ok, so there seems to be some dislike towards the Sigrid/Jörð relationship. This mostly seems to be a problem on FF.net , not AO3, probably because the tags on AO3 do a better job of letting people know what they're getting themselves into, lol. I've seen people express that they wish that this story would be solely focused on the Mikaelson family, or that they think Jörð has no purpose, so let me try to explain it the way I see it.
> 
> First of all, obviously you are all entitled to your opinions, and can stop and start reading at any time. I promise my feelings won't be hurt. But ultimately, I'm the one putting the effort in to actually write the story. So while I'm happy to take politely-worded suggestions, I'm the one who decides where the plot is going. I will not be editing Jörð out, nor will I stop utilizing her as a character. I have plans for her.
> 
> Second of all, the way I see this story is that its main focus is the family dynamics. The main conflict is trying to fix the Mikaelson family. But that can't be the only thing that happens.
> 
> Sigrid begins this story already in the place where we want her siblings to end up if things are to improve. She's already capable of forgiveness, she's already emotionally open with her family, she already puts them first. If all I did was teach the rest of the Mikaelsons to be a better family, Sigrid wouldn't change at all as a character.
> 
> But Sigrid's siblings also have something Sigrid doesn't. They all have their own individual wants and hopes and dreams outside of "let's be better siblings." And if you think about it, being so solely devoted to that one thing isn't very healthy. As a character, Sigrid needs to learn that. Her family can and will continue to be her first priority, but she needs to have things outside of her family that she wants, and is willing to fight for. That's what Jörð represents. She's something Sigrid wants, but can't have with her current mindset.
> 
> Put more simply, Sigrid's siblings are too selfish, to the detriment of their family. But Sigrid is too selfless, to the detriment of herself. If this story is about the Mikaelsons developing, then Sigrid needs to develop too. She's her own individual outside of just being the impetus for change in the family. The sibs need to learn to take care of each other, and Sigrid needs to learn to take care of herself.
> 
> So. Jörð is going to continue to "be a thing," as one person put it. She'll become a more active contributor to the plot eventually (as in, meeting other characters, taking action, changing things, etc). If you don't like that, no one's making you read.
> 
> Oh, and, to the guest reviewers on FF.net whose reviews I deleted: Sorry, but they weren't constructive at all, and were also full of profanity. Normally I wouldn't care, but I don't want the rating of the review section to be higher than the story itself. Also, don't be rude.
> 
> END OF EXPLANATION
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!

_ “Hello? This is Bonnie Bennett speaking, who is this?” _ Bonnie’s confused voice came over the speaker. Sigrid could hear the faint rumble of a car’s engine in the background, and she glanced at the time. Bonnie was probably just leaving school.

“Hello Bonnie,” Sigrid greeted cheerfully, and smirked up at her siblings when she heard the witch suck in a sharp breath. “Ah, I wasn’t sure you’d recognize my voice over the phone, but evidently you do. I suppose the night we met  _ was _ rather memorable,” she mused, thinking back to how she had rebuffed Bonnie’s attempts to kill Niklaus with relative ease. It hadn’t been  _ effortless _ \--the Bennett bloodline was strong, especially when backed by 100 dead witches--but it had likely seemed that way to Bonnie, which would work in Sigrid’s favor here. “So sorry about how we left things, by the way,” she tacked on casually, recalling how she had knocked Bonnie unconscious and flung her clear across the ritual site. “But you  _ were  _ trying to kill my brother, and while I can understand the temptation, I really don’t appreciate the attempt.”

“What do you want?” Bonnie practically growled. Terrifying. 

But just as Sigrid opened her mouth to respond, a new voice chimed in. A familiar voice, though Sigrid had yet to meet this particular version of it. Rebekah shifted abruptly, a harsh scowl spreading across her lips, and Nik smirked. “Bonnie?” Elena Gilbert queried. “Who is it?”

Sigrid grinned sharply, leaning back against the wooden spike still embedded in Stefan’s chest. “Why don’t you put the phone on speaker, love?” she suggested. “It’s not safe to talk on the phone while driving.”

“Maybe I should just hang up then!” Bonnie snapped, and Sigrid could hear the doppelganger clamoring for information in the background. 

A brief pause. Stefan’s blood continued to drip steadily down to the floor, where it pooled. “I wouldn’t,” Sigrid said mildly.

Bonnie put the phone on speaker, and Elena’s sputtering became much more distinct.

“Hello Elena,” Sigrid said politely, briefly channeling Elijah. She knew the human doppelganger had responded far better to her mannerly brother than to any of Sigrid’s other siblings. “We haven’t been properly acquainted, I’m afraid.” Her voice remained perfectly cordial, but her lips curled into a vicious smile, one mirrored by both of her siblings. “My name is Sigrid Mikaelson. I believe you’ve met some of my siblings.”

There was a heavy moment of silence. “You’re Klaus’s sister,” Elena said, almost accusingly. As if that were somehow Sigrid’s fault.

“Hmm, yes,” Sigrid confirmed blandly, stepping away from Stefan’s body as the pooling blood threatened to reach her bare feet. Disgusting. “And Rebekah’s. But I’m also Elijah, Finn, and Kol’s sister, and they’re the ones I called to talk about.”

But Elena, it seemed, wasn’t ready to let the issue of Sigrid and Niklaus’s shared blood rest. “ _ Your _ brother tried to  _ kill mine _ yesterday!” she shouted, and Sigrid heard the car pull over and to a stop a little bit too quickly. 

Sigrid narrowed her eyes, and when she spoke her voice came out rather colder than before. “Well then,” she pointed out coolly. “It seems we all have siblings we’re trying to protect.”

That brought Elena up short. Sigrid could practically hear her blinking in surprise. Had it even occurred to her that she was complicit in holding someone’s family hostage? That Niklaus wasn’t angry because Stefan had stolen from him (or at least, not  _ only _ for that reason), but because his brothers were being threatened? 

Sensing weakness, Sigrid allowed her voice to soften. “Like I said. That’s why I called.”

Elena swallowed audibly. Well, maybe not audible to a human, but Sigrid could hear it, and her brother and sister certainly could as well. “I already told Klaus, I don’t know where Stefan took them,” Elena insisted. Wow, she was a pretty bad liar. She must have only found out where Stefan hid the coffins  _ after _ Niklaus confronted her yesterday, otherwise he would have been onto her in a flash.

Sigrid hummed, unconvinced. “You know, I really don’t believe you,” she said plainly, rolling her eyes in unison with both of her blond siblings, who looked equally unimpressed but--luckily--willing to let Sigrid handle the conversation. For now. “But in any case, you’ll notice, Elena, that  _ you’re _ not actually the one I called.” There was a moment of silent realization--Sigrid could practically  _ see _ the two teenagers giving each other meaningful glances--before she continued. “Now Bonnie, darling,” Sigrid purred, and she sounded enough like Kol that Nik twitched violently in her peripheral vision. “You’re the only witch in town, love, and almost  _ certainly _ the only witch Stefan is on good terms with, charmer that he is in his current state.” Sigrid glanced at Stefan’s corpse. Heh. His current state. If only they knew. The thought cheered Sigrid slightly, and when she next spoke, her voice was almost disturbingly congenial. “So! Why don’t you tell me where my family is, and things won’t have to escalate any further,” Sigrid offered pleasantly. Bonnie would likely need a little convincing, but Sigrid did  _ so _ hope she went for it. 

Predictably, Bonnie ground out an immediate denial. “Absolutely not,” she snarled, and despite herself, Sigrid was impressed by the steel in the young witch’s voice. Also by the fact that she didn’t even try to deny her involvement. It might have been foolish, but it was undeniably brave. “Your psycho brother--” Sigrid’s eyebrows shot up, lips pressing together in mirth as she looked to Niklaus, who stood not three feet away. He wasn’t especially affected by Bonnie’s words (he’d  _ definitely  _ been called worse), but Sigrid still wondered if the witch would have had the guts to say that had she known he was very much within earshot. “--has been terrorizing us for  _ months _ . He runs around town like he owns the place, compelling people, threatening people,  _ hurting  _ people! And there hasn’t been a damned thing we could do about it!” Bonnie said passionately, and Sigrid thought the girl actually  _ might _ call Nik a psycho to his face, if given the chance. Hell, maybe she already  _ had _ . “But we finally have some leverage, and I need to protect my friends,” Bonnie finished, resolute. 

“Bonnie,” Elena whispered, voice soft. She sounded incredibly touched.

Sigrid looked to her siblings. Rebekah’s beautiful features were pinched with dislike, and it was clear she found Bonnie’s conviction unimpressive. Niklaus on the other hand looked bizarrely contemplative, and Sigrid shot him a warning look. She knew he liked to collect powerful, driven, and loyal people, but she sensed that a sudden interest in Bonnie on his part would not be well-received by  _ anyone _ in Mystic Falls. Besides, Bonnie’s loyalty was so absolute that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell he’d be able to sway her. Any attempt would likely just piss her off, which wasn’t exactly conducive to Sigrid’s plans at the moment. She flicked his arm in reprimand, and danced out of the way when he tried to retaliate.

“I admire your loyalty, Bonnie,” Sigrid said after a moment of dodging, and it was the truth. She smiled slightly, batting at Niklaus’s hands as they dug mercilessly into her sides. “And I certainly don’t begrudge you your desire to protect your loved ones,” she added when Bonnie made a disbelieving noise. That was true too. Sigrid halted Nik’s attempts at a tickle attack (couldn’t he tell that she was in the middle of an important diplomatic mission?!) by pulling at his arms until they were wrapped around her waist in a hugging position, her back to his chest. She curled her free hand around his wrist, pressing her fingers to his slow, steady pulse and leaning into her brother’s comforting warmth. A glance at Rebekah found her gazing at them with soft eyes, something undeniably sad in her baby blues. Sigrid smiled at her reassuringly, and maintained eye contact as she spoke, simultaneously giving Nik’s arm a squeeze. “That’s what we’re all trying to do, at this point,” she said quietly.

“Maybe, but that’s not what Klaus was doing at first,” Bonnie said harshly, and her angry voice snapped Sigrid out of the pleasantly soft moment she’d fallen into. Right. Middle of a negotiation. She had to stay sharp. “He came to Mystic Falls-- _ ruined _ our lives--just to do complete a stupid ritual!” Sigrid stiffened and felt Niklaus do the same. A stupid ritual, she called it, as if Nik’s curse hadn’t been the nail in the coffin that ruined the Mikaelsons’ chances at being a happy family. As if it hadn’t defined their existence for 1000 years. As if Sigrid hadn’t searched tirelessly for a way to help her brother, only to come up empty again and again. “He possessed Ric, he killed Jenna, he killed  _ Elena _ , and then as if that wasn’t enough he came back and stole her blood! All so he could make a bunch of hybrid slaves!” 

Well, Sigrid didn’t have the foggiest idea who Ric and Jenna were, but she figured now was not the moment to mention that. More importantly. . . “Yes, he did. And for those offenses, you lot conspired with my father in an attempt to kill my brother,” she said tightly. “But you failed. Just as many before you have, and many after you will.” Sigrid smirked, eyes undoubtedly still dark with anger and vicious satisfaction. “But we were prepared to leave things there. All’s fair in love and war after all, and with the loss of Mikael your greatest weapon was eliminated. There was no reason for our conflict to go any further,” Sigrid said civilly. This was only the slightest stretch of the truth. She and Nik hadn’t actually discussed what actions they might have taken towards the instigators of the attack, if Stefan hadn’t interfered. Damon Salvatore likely wouldn’t have been completely safe, but they also probably wouldn’t have killed him. . . But there was no need to mention any of that. “Niklaus forgave Stefan for his involvement, released him from both his compulsion  _ and _ from the decade of service he swore to Niklaus in return for saving Damon earlier this year,” Sigrid pointed out, perfectly reasonably in her opinion. “Things could have ended there. But Stefan decided that his desire for revenge was more important than the opportunity to make peace.”

“But Klaus still wants my blood,” Elena interjected, though Sigrid noted with pleasure that she sounded thoughtful. “So the fight was never really going to end.”

Sigrid made a contemplative noise--a false one, considering she would have guided the conversation to this topic herself if they hadn’t gotten here naturally. She already knew exactly what she wanted to say on this subject, having discussed it ad nauseum with Jörð last night. If she could get Elena on side. . . “Well, Elena, I’m glad you brought that up,” she said honestly, gingerly extracting herself from Nik’s arms and crossing towards Rebekah. She tried not to make it too obvious that she was fleeing to her sister’s protection. Sigrid didn’t  _ think _ Nik would be too upset about anything she was about to say, but she wished she’d had a chance to go over it with him first, since she was about to speak on his behalf. . . kind of extensively. “You’re right, of course. Nik does want your blood. . . but that means he  _ needs _ you alive. If we work together, rather than remaining at odds, then you have the opportunity to gain the protection of one of the most  _ powerful _ supernatural creatures on the  _ planet _ ,” Sigrid stressed, edging behind Rebekah, who rolled her eyes--clearly not pleased with the prospect of the doppelganger being protected by their family--but dutifully placed herself between Sigrid and Niklaus, who was twitching rather violently. Sigrid glanced at her brother with a helpless _ “please don’t be mad I’m your innocent baby sister” _ smile plastered on her face, and he sighed, raising a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose before he relented. He’d never resembled Elijah more.

“Protection from what?” Bonnie snorted derisively. “ _ Klaus _ is the one who’s been attacking her!”

Sigrid snorted. “Bonnie, I’m surprised at you!” she scolded mockingly. “Haven’t you been reading your grimoires?” she teased, continuing before the witch had a chance to answer. “Doppelganger blood is an  _ extremely _ powerful magical ingredient. And many of its uses require more blood than a human can safely give,” Sigrid added, utterly unconcerned even as someone’s breath hitched on the other end of the line. “Now that Elena’s existence has been revealed to the rest of the supernatural world, I can  _ guarantee _ you more people will be after her than your little gang of misfits can handle on their own. I can think of at least five covens off the top of my head--plus a number of very old vampires--who’d all be  _ quite _ interested in paying Elena a visit. And they won’t be willing to negotiate.”

She paused, allowing that to sink in. It was the truth, even if Sigrid’s reasons for telling it weren’t exactly pure. “But I am,” she said after a moment. “That’s why I called.” Sigrid looked up at Nik, and found him staring at her. “We don’t have to fight anymore,” she said quietly, before wresting her eyes from his. “Bonnie,” Sigrid called firmly after taking a deep breath. “If protecting your friends is really the thing that matters most to you--more than revenge, more than doing the so-called ‘right thing’--then this is how you do it,” Sigrid said, voice sincere. “Tell me where my family is, and I can help you protect yours.”

A long pause. 

“I--” Bonnie stuttered. “I mean--I have to talk about this.  _ We _ have to talk about this. That’s--that’s not a decision I can just make on everyone’s behalf!”

Sigrid raised an eyebrow. “Good thing Elena’s in the car with you then,” she said somewhat dryly, crossing her arms. “Considering it’s her life we’re discussing, I rather think her opinion is the one that matters most.” 

“Elena--” Bonnie began, but cut herself off sharply. She huffed irritably. Ah, so Elena had probably given her some sort of signal to be quiet. 

After a moment, the Petrova doppelganger spoke. “I want to negotiate,” she decided, and she sounded resolute. A satisfied smirk crept across Sigrid’s face as she glanced back at Stefan’s body.  _ How will you feel _ , she mused smugly, _ when you wake up and find your allies have abandoned you. _

“Elena!” Bonnie said again, an objection this time, but Elena wasn’t having it.

“I know, Bonnie!” she cried. “I know, okay! I hate him too. He  _ killed Jenna _ !” Elena yelled, voice slightly thick. “But yesterday he tried to kill Jeremy. And it’s like she said,” Elena sniffled. “Protecting you guys. . . that’s more important to me than revenge. I don’t mind giving blood every once in a while if it means you’ll all be safe,” she finished, plaintive.

Remarkably, Sigrid felt a measure of respect for Elena Gilbert welling in her breast. That was a sentiment Sigrid could admire. But still, the show must go on. She pressed forward. “A show of good faith then, until we have time to strike a deal. A ceasefire,” Sigrid suggested. “Until we can all meet to properly negotiate, no member of my family will harm anyone in Mystic Falls, save for in self-defense. You have my word,” she swore. For the first time, Nik and Rebekah seemed to actually object to what Sigrid had said, but that wasn’t going to stop her. She shot them both a warning glare, eyes hard. “I’ll see to it myself,” Sigrid promised, before returning her attention to the phone call to give her own demands. “But in return, the spell concealing the coffins will be lifted, and I will retrieve my siblings.  _ Today _ .”

Bonnie made an unhappy noise. “So we give up all of our leverage in exchange for you promising to be decent people and not kill us?”

Sigrid paused, sincerely confused. Did that. . . not sound like a good deal to her? “Well, yes,” she said slowly. “Would you prefer that we just. . . kill everyone except the two of you and torture you until you release the spell? Because I’m fully capable of that, I was just trying to avoid it by making a deal instead. I figured you wouldn't want to go for that option.” Rebekah snorted.

“No,” Elena squeaked. She sounded genuinely freaked out. Hmm. Sigrid wondered if Damon had told her about Sigrid summoning lighting out of the sky the other night. “You were right, we don’t like that option. Bonnie’ll undo the spell.”

“Wha--?!” Bonnie cut herself off before her objection was even fully voiced. In the background, Sigrid could hear the noise of someone rummaging around in the glove-compartment, then the crinkle of paper and a pen scoring across the page. Ah, communicating via notepad, were they? “Fine,” Bonnie agreed begrudgingly after a moment. “But you’re explaining this to Damon,” she muttered to Elena. Sigrid suspected she wasn’t meant to hear that. “The coffins are in the basement of the Old Witch House, in the woods at the northern edge of town,” Bonnie confessed at a regular volume. Sigrid’s quiet heartbeat jumped in excitement, and her head snapped up to meet her siblings’ wide eyes, which reflected the hope and crushing relief she could feel coursing through her own veins. A location! They had a location! “I can undo the spell on my end,” the witch added, “but I had to channel the witches who died there in order to cloak the coffins, and I don’t know if they’ll be willing to let you take your family. They really hate vampires.”

A wicked smirk curled over Sigrid’s lips, dimples creasing her cheeks. “Unluckily for them, I’m not a vampire,” she said smoothly, voice just the slightest bit dark. “You let me handle the spirits, darling.” 

Sigrid hung up ten minutes later with the coordinates for the witch house in hand, tentative plans to negotiate with Elena and company scheduled for five days from then, and the sweet buzz of success curling throughout her body. That had gone. . . remarkably according to plan. She whirled towards her brother and sister excitedly, a somewhat manic smile on her face.

Niklaus looked very impressed, if a little irritated with her. “You really are a manipulative little thing, aren’t you,” he chuckled. 

Sigrid shrugged brightly, still a little high on her accomplishment. “When I have to be,” she admitted easily. “But I much prefer being straightforward.” She bounced over to Rebekah happily, mood dramatically improved from where it had been last night, and wrapped her arms tightly around her sister’s waist. Sigrid grinned widely and hefted Bekah off the floor, bending backwards slightly and spinning around. This was a little difficult, because Rebekah was both taller and heavier than Sigrid, who had no super strength to speak of. But at the end of the day, Bekah was still pretty slight, and Sigrid was full of energy.

Rebekah laughed happily as Sigrid whirled her around for a moment, before wrestling back control of the motion and seizing Sigrid beneath the hips to hoist her easily into the air. “Oh Elijah will be proud of you when he hears about this, you little sweet talker,” she giggled, before fixing her face into a pout. “Though I’m not best pleased about you saying I can’t hurt Elena. She  _ literally  _ stabbed me in the back!” Rebekah complained, setting Sigrid back on the ground. Sigrid figured she would have been more peeved about it if anyone other than Sigrid had laid out the edict. Bekah was probably still trying to get back into her good graces. 

“No one’s saying you can’t scare her a little,” Sigrid shrugged. “Or just take out your frustrations towards Elena on Stefan,” she suggested merrily. “That way you can hurt both of them.” Sigrid pulled back from her sister’s embrace, feet sliding soundlessly across the floor. She glanced at Stefan and grimaced. They should probably clean up that blood before it set into the wood, and put down a tarp so he didn’t drip all over the place. Gross. But the thought of Stefan’s physical pain, as well as the emotional blow she had just dealt him without him even knowing it. . . well it brought a smile to Sigrid’s face. “And Elijah might appreciate the letter of that negotiation, but I doubt he’ll appreciate its spirit. For whatever reason, he seemed to like some of the people in this town.” She smirked. Stefan’s face was starting to regain some color. He’d wake up soon, and when he did. . . well. He’d be in for a world of hurt. 

Normally Sigrid wasn’t this vindictive. But normally people didn’t dare to steal her brothers away from her and hold them hostage. She almost preferred people outright trying to kill them. 

“Why?” Rebekah asked, confused. Niklaus looked curious as well, but also assessing. He glanced between Sigrid’s sharklike smile, the phone still clutched in her hand, and Stefan’s helpless form, an expression of dawning comprehension on his face. “What were you trying to accomplish by negotiating?”

“Weeeell,” Sigrid drawled out, skipping toward the Stefan-kebab and nimbly darting around the blood smeared across the floor. “I really  _ did _ want to reach a peaceful solution, here, if possible,” she admitted, because she wasn’t one to revel in pointless bloodshed. “But what I mostly wanted was to make Stefan miserable in a way that no physical torture could ever accomplish,” Sigrid explained, lifting a hand to stroke Stefan’s cold, pale cheek with false tenderness. “Think about it,” she elaborated, when Rebekah still looked perplexed. “Stefan lost everything because of Nik’s compulsion. Or at least he felt that he did, to the point that his very first action once it was lifted was to seek revenge the best way he knew how.” Sigrid pulled away from the young vampire, hand trailing down his jaw, then dropping into open air as she stepped further from him and closer to her siblings. “But in truth, he hadn’t lost anything at all. True, his Ripper tendencies were reawakened, but his friends and his girlfriend and his brother. . . they were all prepared to help him with that,” Sigrid said. “To support him. But he chose revenge over all of them. He decided that getting back at us was his top priority, even though it wasn’t anyone else’s.” Sigrid stepped into Rebekah’s side, linking their arms together and turning to look back at Stefan, tilting her head consideringly. “Honestly, we might have done his friends a favor, taking him out of the picture,” she observed idly. “Who knows how far he might have gone to get what he wanted.”

“The point, sister?” Nik asked impatiently, though a look at the gleeful expression on his face revealed that he’d already realized what Sigrid’s game was, and just wanted to hear her say it.

She sighed happily. “The point, dear brother, is that Stefan wanted his revenge more than anything. If I had to bet, I’d say he’s already strained his relationships a bit in his search for it.” She smiled smugly. “And now, when he wakes up, Stefan will find that the people in this town who he cares the most about--emotionless though he may pretend to be--have decided to make peace with us,” Sigrid said, her voice sweet and light as spun-sugar. “To put our differences aside. He’ll have no more allies in his quest for revenge, and if he seeks it anyway, then  _ everyone _ he loves will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that when someone dies, it will be because Stefan Salvatore valued his revenge more than their lives.” A horrible, gloating grin spread across Sigrid’s face, and she reached out with her free hand to tangle her fingers with Niklaus’s and swing their arms through the open air between them. “He can either give up on what he wants most, or he can ruin his closest relationships beyond repair,” she said brightly. “Meanwhile  _ we _ get to make peace, get to bargain for access to Elena’s blood,  _ and _ get to have our family back.”

Sigrid inhaled deeply, tossing her head back and smiling widely. The air smelled of wood and blood and success, and she squeezed her siblings’ hands. “Victory is sweet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, so sorry for the long AN. I know I hate reading them. 
> 
> Anyway, in this chapter, peep Sigrid having more respect for Elena's autonomy than most of her friends do. On that note, how do ya'll feel about Elena? I don't really want to bash her (I didn't really start disliking her until season 4, when she does you know what), but I know a lot of people don't like her. I have some rough plans for her already, but I might be able to change the way Sigrid thinks about her based on you guys' feedback. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!
> 
> EDIT 08/03/20: Sorry guys but I don't think I'm going to be able to update this week like planned. I have to get my wisdom teeth removed this week and I don't think anyone wants me to write/edit/upload stories while I'm drugged to the gills. If I manage to get something up before my surgery or shortly after it, great! But I wouldn't expect it. I'll try to get back on schedule as soon as possible, and sorry again (especially since I know we're at a juicy part of the story)!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid wants people to stop getting in her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild update appeared!
> 
> So. . . it's been awhile. Sorry about that. Honestly can't promise that it won't happen again, I have a lot less free time since classes started up again. But I CAN promise that I'm not giving up on either of my stories (and hopefully I never will), even if it takes me awhile to update.
> 
> In any case, please enjoy the chapter!

The spell cloaking Sigrid’s brothers began to break down as she was trekking through the forest, following her own internal GPS to the coordinates Bonnie had given her. She paused, shuddering as awareness of her siblings suddenly washed over her. Like Bonnie had predicted, the dead witches must have been maintaining the cloak to some extent, because Sigrid still couldn’t tell where Elijah, Kol, and Finn  _ were _ exactly. She couldn’t follow her connection to them back to their bodies the way she would normally be able to. 

But she could feel them. 

And even without the connection, she knew where they were.

Sigrid grinned widely and leapt into the treetops. She’d be able to move more quickly up there. The small knapsack she’d brought to store the silver daggers--though it was currently filled to the brim with blood bags--bounced against her hip as she jumped happily from branch to branch.  _ Soon! _

On one particularly long leap, Sigrid let out a great peal of laughter as she soared through the air between the trees, wind whipping through her hair, near giddy with the thought. Soon,  _ soon _ her family would all be together again! She could keep her promise to Elijah, she could teach Kol about race cars, she could introduce Finn to a world he’d never gotten to know. Rebekah could go to school--maybe there’d be another dance!--and soon Nik would be able to make more hybrids. And as a bonus, all that would make Stefan Salvatore even more miserable than the torture he was no doubt enduring even as she spoke!

It wouldn’t be easy. Sigrid knew that well enough after all this time. But still. . . 

They’d all be awake and together for the first time in 900 years. That had to count for something. She’d  _ make it _ count for something if she had to. 

The trees ahead thinned out abruptly as Sigrid approached a clearing at breakneck speed. Effortlessly, she came to a full and complete stop on the very last branch available to her, crouching on the tree limb and giving it an affectionate pat as she scanned the scene in front of her.

An old, Colonial style house stood about 25 meters from Sigrid’s position at the treeline. It was visibly weathered with age, windows and shutters cracked and dirty. Clearly it had once been white, but time and exposure had dulled it to a gritty grayish color. The immense columns at the front of the house were overgrown with curling vines. The front garden was likewise abandoned and untamed. Sigrid spied a bit of cracked, eroded stone that might have once been a statue or a fountain, but had since been overtaken by shrubs and creeping weeds.

Curiously, only now that she was upon the house could Sigrid sense the spirits of the witches inside. Perhaps the spell had also been partially concealing their presence? Strange. They were powerful, certainly--one hundred witches of any status gave off quite the beacon--but now that they weren’t being actively channeled, they felt somehow smaller than Sigrid had expected. Maybe because she was so familiar with the witches of New Orleans, who  _ actually _ practiced Ancestral magic? The Bennet coven was certainly strong, but they practiced primarily nature magic. Perhaps that played some role in their capabilities, now that they were mere spirits. 

No matter. Sigrid would simply deal with them either way.

Fearlessly, Sigrid dropped to the ground, curling her bare toes into the cool, damp earth. Hmm. . . very few people had stepped foot here in the past few decades. Most of the visitors over the last 50 years or so had been fairly recent.  _ A witch. . . _ the earth told her. Bonnie, no doubt. _ Some humans. . . A few vampires _ . Elena and her posse. Sigrid sighed.

Unsurprisingly, the witches’ magic became more suffocating the closer Sigrid got to the entrance. She could almost hear them whispering, just at the edge of her mind. She stopped before the front door. “Alright, everyone, that’s enough of that,” Sigrid called firmly, planting her hands on her hips. “You all know who I am. You all know  _ what _ I am,” she emphasized, allowing her own power to swell for a brief moment. Wind rustled through the clearing, and the witches drew back slightly. “And you all know why I’m here,” Sigrid finished. “So why don’t we cut to the chase? Show me where my family is, and we won’t have to resort to any kind of dramatics.” She stepped through the doorway. 

Instantly, magic pressed down upon her from all sides, attempting to worm its way into Sigrid’s mind and give her a horrific aneurysm. Dramatics it was, then. Fortunately, Sigrid had been prepared for this likelihood (this was  _ especially _ fortunate since the aneurysm spell was one she was particularly weak to if taken unawares; her healing rate wasn’t that great, after all), and she allowed a well of raw natural energy to flood throughout her body and into the air around her, overloading and essentially destroying the magic as it approached her. This was truthfully just about the only way Sigrid could defend against magic that was aimed at her directly, rather than at her surroundings. Evidently the witches had learned. The nature magic they’d attacked with at their last encounter had been much easier for Sigrid to defend against, for obvious reasons.

Sigrid rolled her head around, cracking her neck a bit, and scowled lightly. She was starting to get a little impatient. “I said that’s enough,” she snapped, flaring her aura and pushing it throughout the entire house so that each individual witch could feel her presence. Could feel how much. . .  _ bigger  _ than them Sigrid was. “I am a being of nature! Do not presume to overpower me!” The spirits hissed angrily, but settled slightly, stopping their attack. “Thank you,” Sigrid said primly, stepping further into the house. She surveyed the place idly, noting the broken furniture and the rather interesting mold spotting the walls and ceiling. The place was huge. The coffins could be anywhere, and since they were still concealed, Sigrid knew that she could search the entire house and still not find them. Unless the witches cooperated.

“Now,” Sigrid began, trying to emulate Elijah’s trustworthy yet intimidating demeanor. “I would like nothing more than for this unfortunate situation to be resolved peacefully. Your descendant Bonnie and I have already reached something of an accord. She’s agreed to let me take my siblings, in exchange for the promise of a temporary ceasefire and further negotiations in the future.” Making it sound like Bonnie’s idea would hopefully make the concept more palatable to the irate witches. Neglecting to mention that Sigrid had practically threatened the girl into compliance was also key. “Bonnie’s a smart young woman. Cautious, talented. Not a fan of vampires,” Sigrid smirked, then shrugged idly. “She has a good head on her shoulders. I would’ve thought you lot’d be more supportive of one of your few remaining direct descendents.”

_ Too young (TOO YOUNG), _ the witches whispered harshly, voices echoing around Sigrid’s head.  _ Doesn’t know the world (DOESN’T KNOW)! _

Sigrid hummed quietly, frowning. “True enough.” So much for Plan A. If it were any other situation, Sigrid might have kept at it for a little longer, really tried to persuade the witches before switching tactics. But her brothers were in this house somewhere, and Sigrid wasn’t about to let a bunch of dead bitches with superiority complexes keep them from her. Oh well. Plan B it was. An old Mikaelson family favorite! “Still. . .” Sigrid sighed, falsely forlorn. “It  _ would _ be a shame if something happened to her, wouldn’t it? The very last, full-blooded, practising Bennet witch in the world  _ gone _ because her ancestors couldn’t keep their dusty, incorporeal noses out of other people’s business.”

The response was immediate. The house shook with the force of the rage of 100 hundred witches as they hurled magic at Sigrid from all directions.  _ YOU SWORE,  _ they shrieked, whipping up the wind and sending things flying at Sigrid’s head, slinging sharp arcs of magic at her to cut her flesh, trying to set her clothes on fire, to break her bones. 

None of it worked.

Sigrid grimaced with the strain of redirecting, overpowering, and/or smothering so many different kinds of magic at once, but it was just as she had suspected: dead Bennet witches simply weren’t as powerful as the Ancestors down in NOLA. She might have actually been in trouble if they were. But this wasn’t  _ real _ ancestral magic, just some bastardized version of it. She’d had worse from New Orleans witches on their weakest days. Shrugging off so many attacks at once wasn’t  _ easy _ perse. . . but Sigrid could do it. 

_ YOU GAVE YOUR WORD! _ the witches screamed, and Sigrid had had just about enough.

“ _ Quit it!” _ she shouted, seizing control of the wind from the spirits and sending it tearing through the house, charged up to the gills with her aura--natural energy in its purest form. It couldn’t hurt the witches directly, since they weren’t a part of the physical plane, but since they still accessed the natural world indirectly when they channeled nature to do magic, such an outpouring of raw energy could sort of. . . reach them  _ through _ that connection, giving them a harsh jolt like an electric shock. Like overloading a circuit, almost. The spirits were left momentarily stunned, and metaphorically (metaphysically?) shaking. Sigrid leapt upon this moment unhesitatingly. “I gave my word,” she hissed, “that provided I was able to retrieve my siblings  _ today _ , my family would agree not to harm anyone in this town. Currently,  _ you’re _ the only thing stopping me from reaching them. And if you don’t  _ get out of my way _ and allow me to take my brothers home safely, then there will quite literally be  _ nothing _ stopping me from going into town and slaughtering your precious little Bonnie, shortly followed by the rest of this miserable little town, and then by every  _ single  _ living descendent you have left.  _ Do you understand me? _ ”

Finally, the air was still. There was a long moment of silence, and Sigrid could practically feel the spirits processing this ultimatum. She would have no problem following through on her threat, and the witches knew that. Sigrid may have liked Bonnie, may have admired her loyalty and tenacity, but that wouldn’t stop her from tearing the girl into itty bitty pieces if that’s what she had to do to get her brothers back. And the rest of the witches’ descendents didn’t even have the thin barrier of amiable acquaintance protecting them. Sigrid could and  _ would _ destroy them, if it came to that.

She’d regret it. But she’d do it anyway. Her feelings were not more important than her family. 

And the spirits must have sensed that.

The remainder of the cloaking spell fell away abruptly, seeming to almost disperse into the air like smoke. Sigrid twitched as knowledge of her siblings' precise whereabouts swept over her in a wave, her connection to them snapping back into place jarringly, and she was moving almost before she was fully aware of it. She burst forward with sudden energy, whipping around corner after corner until she found the correct staircase, one leading down to the basement below.

They were there. She could  _ feel _ them, closer than they’d been since that night in Chicago when she’d touched their cold faces and told them how sorry she was.

Sigrid didn’t bother with the stairs. She leapt forward into the open air, landing featherlight on the cold stone of the floor fifteen feet below.

And there they were. Three elegantly embossed mahogany coffins, lined up in a neat row. E, K, and F, right in a line. Kol’s casket was closest. Sigrid reached out, allowing her fingers to trace lightly along the edge of his bronze nameplate. She could feel him just beneath her hand, separated from her only by a thin layer of wood. Her fingers trembled slightly. “Found you,” Sigrid whispered. A small smile stole across her face.

“Hope you don’t mind that we helped ourselves to the locked one,” a smarmy, mildly familiar voice spoke up from the shadows behind her. 

Sigrid suppressed what would have been a  _ very _ violent startle response with a thousand years worth of hard-earned self control. The magic of the hundred witches was so thoroughly embedded into the house and the surrounding area that she hadn’t even sensed the vampire’s presence. “Damon Salvatore,” she mused, keeping her voice level and pointedly not turning around to look at him. “I wish I could say it was nice to officially meet you, but given the circumstances. . .” The locked coffin.  _ Damn. _ She hadn’t even been thinking about it. Nik was going to be pissed as all hell. 

“Well, our paths did  _ cross _ the other night,” the eldest Salvatore drawled, stepping forward out of the shadows and moving to lean against the wall to Sigrid’s right. She allowed herself to turn and look at him, keeping her body firmly between the vampire and her defenseless siblings. He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Quite the display you put on, by the way. Mind telling me what kind of witchy-woo lets you pull a lightning bolt out of the sky, then shrug off Daddy Dearest’s fist getting personal with your small intestine?”

Despite herself, Sigrid snorted. That was certainly one way of putting it. But still. . . “I’m not a witch,” she grumbled. “Why does everyone always assume I’m a witch?” she wondered, speaking mostly to herself. 

Damon responded anyway. She wondered if he was even capable of restraining himself from doing so. “Well, what else are you supposed to be? You’re sure as hell not a vampire,” he snarked. “Or a werewolf for that matter.”

Sigrid turned to face him fully, crossing her arms lightly and leaning up against Kol’s coffin. She smirked. “Ah, yes,  _ werewolves _ ,” she said slowly, voice heavy with irony. “Those creatures whose existence you didn’t even know about until the past year or so, despite them being fairly common knowledge in the supernatural community.” Damon shifted irritably, fingers flexing into tight fists at his sides as he sneered. Sigrid stalked a step closer to the vampire, not at all intimidated by his posturing. “Has it even occurred to you just how much you don’t know about the world?” she asked lightly, cocking her head and smiling, eyes narrowed mockingly. Perhaps that wasn’t entirely fair. After all, Sigrid actively went out of her way to conceal her true nature from most people. It wasn’t exactly a  _ secret _ \--there were plenty of witches and older vampires who knew precisely what she was--but it wasn’t knowledge that a creature as young as Damon would come across naturally unless he knew some  _ very _ interesting people. Still, his willful ignorance was irritating. “‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’” Sigrid quoted. “As my friend William once penned.”

Damon gave a forced smirk. “Well, if you’re done name-dropping the Bard, why don’t you answer my question?”

“About what I am?” Sigrid questioned rhetorically, resting a hip against Finn’s coffin now, since she’d stepped away from Kol’s.  _ Soon, brother _ . “Now why would I do that?”

Damon shrugged lackadaisically, though the calm was clearly false. “Seems to me you’re looking to make friends with the locals, considering you went out of your way to talk Elena into giving up the fight and ‘making peace,’” he scoffed, putting the last two words in air quotes and injecting a fair amount of heat into his voice. If it hadn’t been obvious enough before, it was now abundantly clear that he did  _ not _ approve of the deal Elena had made with Sigrid--never mind that it was the doppelganger's own blood and life that the negotiations hinged upon, and therefore her decision to make. “Might as well spill the dirty details for your new pals, right?”

“My new pals seem to have stolen something from me,” Sigrid pointed out dryly, choosing not to address Damon’s bitterness. It was none of her concern how he treated his friends. The missing coffin, on the other hand, was decidedly her business. 

The vampire’s face brightened insufferably. “Ah, well, Bonnie told me she made the deal in exchange for your siblings. You get your bros back, you stop your psycho family from arranging any more hit and runs,” Damon sniped, a touch of genuine anger entering his tone. Goodness, they were all quite bent out of shape over what had happened with Jeremy Gilbert, weren’t they? Sigrid could understand to an extent, but the boy had lived, hadn’t he? So it wasn’t as bad as all that, really. Then again, her family was nigh on indestructible, so perhaps her perspective was a bit skewed. “But whatever’s in that coffin wasn’t part of the deal, and I figured you must care about it  _ quite _ a bit, to have it locked up so tight,” Damon added cheerfully. “So Bonnie and I thought I should snag it while I had the chance.” He shrugged lightly, throwing his hands out in a  _ what can you do _ type gesture. “Leverage, you know?”

A single small puff of laughter escaped Sigrid. Well, it was certainly a clever strategy, she could admit that. She really was getting to like Bonnie more and more by the hour. It was a shame the witch was so stubborn and set in her ways. Ultimately, no amount of talent or intelligence could make up for narrow-mindedness. “And how did you know that the person in that coffin  _ wasn’t _ one of my siblings?” she asked, probing for details. Obviously the casket  _ didn’t _ contain a Mikaelson sibling. . . but it  _ did _ contain a Mikaelson. And a potentially troublesome one at that. 

Damon smiled smugly. “Well, between Elijah and Barbie Klaus--” Sigrid assumed that meant Rebekah, “--Elena knows just about your whole life story.” Sigrid very much doubted  _ that _ , although the fact that Elijah and Bekah had perhaps overshared with their temporary allies was not so surprising. For a couple of incredibly paranoid people, they did on occasion have rather loose tongues. “Including the fact that there are only six Originals left--whatever the hell you are included--now that Papa Original’s kicked the bucket. Three of you are awake, three of you are in boxes,” he elaborated, gesturing to the coffins at Sigrid’s back. “Ergo, something else is behind door number seven. Something I’m sure Klaus would  _ love _ to get his wolfy little paws on.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Nik would be furious at the loss of Mother’s coffin. Truthfully, it made Sigrid a little nervous as well, though she wasn’t nearly as fussed about it as her brother would be. It was just that witches were some of the only supernatural beings that could--somewhat consistently--come back from the dead. That was why it had always seemed prudent to hold onto Esther’s body, and not just leave it lying around Mystic Falls where anyone could dig it up. And Mother. . . well there was just no telling whose side she’d be on if she came back. Sigrid would love to believe without a doubt that it would be theirs, but Esther had never been the type to offer her children unconditional support. She’d done just as much to hurt their family as she had to protect it. There was no way to know how she’d react to them after spending a thousand years on the Other Side. 

Sigrid sighed. “Honestly, that coffin is not my main concern right now,” she confessed. Damon’s face contorted slightly. Obviously he’d been hoping for a more alarmed and disconcerted response. “I’d advise you not to open it, but I also know that you probably see no reason to listen to my advice. So let me offer you a piece of friendly wisdom instead,” Sigrid suggested tiredly, meeting Damon’s gaze unflinchingly. He had no real reason to listen to this either, but she really hoped that he would. It would make things  _ so  _ much easier. “No matter how much you  _ think _ you know about the circumstances that led up to my siblings becoming the first vampires, I  _ guarantee _ you that you still don’t have the whole story. You don’t know all of the implications of the spell that was cast on us,” she said, thinking of the sirelines that connected each and every vampire in the world to one of her siblings. “And you don’t know how those implications still have consequences that have rippled down the generations to affect each and every sentient being who lives on this planet today.” Killing any of Sigrid’s siblings would result in genocide on the kind of scale that would unbalance nature as a whole. That’s how embedded vampires were in the balance of the world at this point. “You don’t have to trust me. You don’t have to  _ like _ me. But  _ believe me _ when I say that killing any of the Original Vampires is not in your best interest,” Sigrid finished firmly. That was all she could say for now, without consulting her siblings. 

Damon stared at her. She could tell he had absorbed her words, and would probably regurgitate them to his co-conspirators later to try to parse them out. But for now. . . “Riiiiight,” he dragged out, speaking in a tone so sarcastic it suggested that he thought her either a simpleton or a madwoman. “I’ll keep that in mind. I think we’ll still keep that coffin, though, ominous warnings or no.” He smirked smugly. “Seems like it’s pretty important after all.”

Sigrid’s face twisted viciously, irritation returning in full force. A light wind rustled through the basement, causing the candles that lined the walls to flicker and flare. Damon eyed them a bit nervously. Yes, that expression was much better. “Right,” Sigrid responded mockingly. “Leverage.” She smiled widely, showing her teeth and her dimples. Damon twitched slightly at the sight of them. Sigrid stepped a little closer, bare feet silent on the cool stone floor.  “Well, speaking of leverage,” she said spitefully “it might interest you to know that every minute we spend chatting is  _ also _ another minute  _ your _ brother spends being tortured by  _ mine.  _ You know, since Stefan broke into our house, made a bunch of demands, attacked Nik, and then got himself captured. And by captured, I mean impaled.” She tilted her head innocently, watching the vampire’s eyes widen with shock and dread. Clearly he had  _ not _ known about Stefan’s idiotic plan. Sigrid grinned maliciously. “Oh don’t worry, he’s still alive,” she assured. “Though, by now he might be wishing he weren’t.” Her eyes crinkled with the force of her smile. “Between you and me, I’d be more worried about what Rebekah might be doing to him than anything else. Hell hath no fury, and all.”

Damon lunged forward with a wordless snarl of rage--how cute, he did love his brother after all--but Sigrid was expecting it, and sent him flying across the room with a great gust of wind. He crashed into the wall, knocking over a dozen candles, which fell down onto him and the rug he’d landed upon, igniting the fabric instantly. Sigrid seized control of the spreading fire with nary a thought, sending it to lick at Damon’s heels, surrounding him in a circle slightly too narrow to be comfortable and growing tall enough put his expensive leather jacket in danger. Damon eyed the flames warily, but still seemed mostly focused on Stefan’s predicament. “You can’t hurt him,” he objected, though he was careful not to sound  _ too  _ worried. Sigh. As if his instinctive response hadn’t already given him away. “ _ Or _ me. You swore that you wouldn’t hurt anyone in Mystic Falls.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said slowly, as if speaking to a small child, “but as I reminded the dearly departed who inhabit this house not half an hour ago, that promise doesn’t go into effect until I’ve safely retrieved my siblings. Which I haven’t,” she complained, gesturing to the coffins, “ _ solely _ because you people keep getting in my way. So!” Sigrid said pleasantly, punctuating the word with a sharp clap that caused the flames surrounding the vampire to flare dramatically. “If you want little brother to stop having his fingers boiled, or whatever the hell is happening to him right now, then quit being so baselessly arrogant and just get out of my sight for a little while, hmm?” she suggested. 

Damon glared. “Yeah, and I suppose if I do that you’ll just  _ let  _ Stefan go?” he sneered.

Sigrid laughed. “Oh, gods no,” she crowed, grinning sharply. “We’ll stop _torturing him_ , sure. I’m a woman of my word, after all.” When it suited her, at least. “But I don’t think we’ll be letting him go _anywhere_ after the stunt he pulled today. Not until negotiations are finalized, anyway.” Her lips tugged sideways slightly, from a smile to a smirk. “Leverage, you know?” she quoted him cheekily. “I’m sure you understand, don’t you Damon?”  
He looked like he would argue, so Sigrid flicked her wrist and the circle of fire around him narrowed by half a foot, so he was practically standing in the flames. The only thing stopping him from being set aflame was Sigrid’s complete control over the blaze. Damon gritted his teeth, and nodded tensely. “Happy to hear it,” she said cheerily, and released him.

The vampire immediately raced for the stairs at top speeds, and Sigrid was only just able to call out and stop him before he exited completely. He turned halfway to look at her over his shoulder from where he’d frozen at the top of the staircase. Sigrid stood at the foot of the stairs, bathed in the natural light streaming down into the basement from the bright golden glow of the late afternoon sun outside. “One last piece of friendly advice, and I suggest you listen to this one,” she said calmly, eyes glittering. “Don’t try to play war games with people seven times your age,” Sigrid recommended dryly. “I’ve forgotten more about battle strategy than you’ll ever learn.” And she wasn’t even the best strategist in the family.

For a brief moment, some of Damon’s bravado seemed to return in the face of this challenge. “Ah, well, I’ve got eternity,” he said, voice light with a veneer of confidence. “Maybe I’ll catch up one day.”

Norns, he really was insufferable. “Somehow, I don’t think you’re going to make it that far,” Sigrid droned. “Now get out of here.”

And though he looked like he would have dearly liked to object, ultimately, Damon acquiesced. Finally, Sigrid was alone. She turned back to the coffins. 

Well. Alone for now. She smiled.

She opened Finn’s coffin first. He’d likely be the last to wake up no matter what, since he’d been daggered for so long, but a head start wasn’t going to hurt anything. Plus, she rather thought he deserved to be undaggered first, all things considered (not that he would know the difference). 

Sigrid stared at the dagger protruding from her eldest brother’s chest. It had been there for so long, she scarcely remembered what he looked like without it. Had he really only been with them for a century? It was such a strange thought, that the eldest of them all had the least amount of life experience. Finn had never had a chance to truly live the way the rest of them had, so caught up in self-hatred and resentment towards what had been done to them. Perhaps he could have that opportunity now, in a time when bagged blood was aplenty and vampires no longer needed to hunt in order to survive.

Carefully, Sigrid pulled her sleeve down over her fingers, so no part of her hand would touch the silver. Breath caught in her throat, she leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss over Finn’s forehead even as she wrapped her protected palm around the dagger’s handle and yanked it from his chest. Fingers shaking, she tucked the knife into her knapsack, removing a blood bag and placing it on her brother’s chest for when he woke up. She carded her fingers through his hair. “I’ll see you soon,” she murmured, and moved along.

Kol was next. After Finn, he’d spent the most time daggered over the years, and for offences that would have gotten Rebekah, Sigrid, or Elijah a far milder punishment. If there was one thing that bothered Sigrid about her more frequently undaggered siblings (and truthfully, there were many things about Nik, Bekah, and Lijah that bothered Sigrid) it was the way they treated Kol. Sigrid didn’t have favorite siblings, but she’d freely admit that she had a massive soft spot for the Wily Fox. As the most magically talented of their siblings (though Sigrid hadn’t  _ quite _ been using magic), they’d spent quite a lot of time together as children, learning and playing and exploring, and Sigrid knew that she had a far stauncher defender in Kol than she did in any of her other siblings. She tried to return the favor. Norns only knew that no one else was looking after Kol. Many of the times that she herself had been daggered had been because she defended Kol over some issue or other, or tried to undagger him in secret. 

To be able to do it freely now. . . it was incredible. 

As she had with Finn, Sigrid leaned down over Kol’s prone form and pressed a tender kiss to his hairline as she removed the dagger that was keeping them apart. She smoothed a thumb over his cheekbones, under his closed eyes--eyes that matched hers right down to the mischievous twinkle that often illuminated them. “I’ll see you soon,” she whispered again, setting another blood bag down within Kol’s reach.

Finally, Sigrid came to Elijah. He’d only been daggered for a few months, so he’d probably wake the soonest. She cracked his coffin open and took a moment to examine him.

Sigrid and Elijah had a complicated relationship. Or at least, it was complicated from Sigrid’s perspective. Truth be told, Elijah probably didn’t think about it as much as she did. 

They loved each other, certainly. Though Elijah was only around ten years older than Sigrid, in many ways he had been more like a father to her than Mikael, or even Finn had ever been. But Sigrid also knew that Elijah was deeply flawed, and in ways that her other siblings--with the possible exception of Kol--seemed not to notice. Their criticisms of the Noble Stag always seemed to run along the lines of him being obnoxiously perfect, but Sigrid knew that was anything but the truth. 

Elijah was just as arrogant and controlling as the rest of them. Moreso, in fact, Sigrid would say. It was just that his obsessive need to be in control at all times manifested differently than Niklaus’s, which was much more overt. Elijah didn’t shove daggers into people’s chests (not often, anyway). He picked at people. He purposefully spoke in ways that they couldn’t understand. He made people feel stupid and small. He acted like his word was worth all the gold in El Dorado, but reneged on his promises more frequently than he’d ever admit. He played favorites.

He prioritized peace between his siblings over their happiness. 

And yet, there was no place in the world where Sigrid felt safer than in Elijah’s arms. The scent of his cologne or the rhythm of his breathing could knock her out like a light, even though she rarely needed sleep. He could make her feel stronger and more capable than ever before with just a few reassuring words. With Elijah at her side, Sigrid felt like she could accomplish anything she put her mind to. And she had never once doubted that he loved her with his entire being.

When Niklaus had daggered Sigrid in Chicago, she had wept for the promise she’d made Elijah. The promise that she would free him and their siblings at the first chance she got. That day, she had thought she’d failed, that Elijah had sacrificed himself for nothing. But now here she was, just a few short weeks later. Rebekah was awake--undaggered most recently by Sigrid’s own hand. Kol and Finn would hopefully be awake within the hour. Two at most. 

_ And so, _ Sigrid thought as she withdrew the final dagger from Elijah’s chest, _ will you. _ She stared down at the silver knife in her hand. Remembered how she had screamed and cried that night all those months ago when Nik had plunged it into their brother’s heart, even though she had known it was coming. She tucked the dagger away, and leaned down to brush a kiss over Elijah’s cheek. 

“Sorry it took so long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but not for any particular reason that I can pinpoint. But I really just had to get it out there, otherwise I was never going to update again, lol.
> 
> Next chapter, a long awaited family reunion!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Quarantine's got me bored with an ungodly amount of time on my hands, so what better moment to publish my first story?
> 
> This story takes place entirely in TVD, but content from The Originals is mentioned pretty early on. Obviously, I don't own either The Vampire Diaries or The Originals or any of the content thereof.


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